Munchkin Mansion? I Don't Think So ....

'This would be ideal for the Munchkins,' he said.

For those of you who have never met me I am only 5ft 3 inches short. I'm proud of my height being as I am, one of the tallest in my family. My father who has just reached his 89th year measures 5ft 1 inch and my mother, now approaching her 90th year has shrunk to 4ft 11 inches. Himself towers over us at a lofty 5ft 11 inches and it amuses him to refer to us as a family a munchkins.

Albeit that it has been agreed that my parents will move with us, I am sure that our munchkins would consider this garden cottage totally unsuitable. It has two square rooms 10ft by 10ft, a basic shower room that looks like germ heaven and like so many other things about this pub, a half-finished poky kitchen. I was beginning to have doubts about life in a pub if this was how I might be expected to live.

For someone with a natural curiosity, or an inbuilt nosiness, house hunting is a pleasure. Pub hunting on the other hand has the potential to be very depressing. Over the next month we covered a wide area in our search for our pub with potential. Boxes were ticked and crossed out. Expressions such as 'you're having a laugh' or 'not on your nelly' frequently left our lips and yes I admit it, we took to cursing pub selling agents and their flamboyant descriptions.

But then came the day that the details of a pub in Somerset plopped through the letterbox. Himself eagerly researched the area. It looked promising. He rang to chat to the agent. It sounded promising. 'I have a good feeling about this one,' he told me. 'We've an appointment to view on Saturday.'