There has been a lot of talk lately in the media, between friends, and at work about housing - cold houses, overcrowded houses, the insane cost of houses, the shortage of houses, the terrible state of some houses, the sale of state houses to foreign buyers, and the homeless.
In covering these stories I'm equally amazed at the amount of people who are struggling with housing issues as I am with the amount of ignorant people who don't see the issue and are quick to stereotype.
I can tell you now, as a 33-year-old mother of three who has been a beneficiary and has spent the past three years re-training into an industry that is slowly dying, my dream of owning my own home has been long pushed to the bottom of my priority list, coming in well under clothing and feeding my children on my modest wage.
No longer on the benefit, now the editor of a newspaper, people are quick to assume that I must be financially comfortable - living the dream. I do work hard, sometimes seven days a week. I don't smoke, hardly drink, stick to a budget, and yet I live from pay cheque to pay cheque.
There have been times when my kids and I have all slept in my bed to keep warm as the cost of power has made heating somewhat of a luxury after I fork out almost three quarters of my net wages on rent alone.
