If ever I win the Lottery you won't find me spending my dosh on a big house with 20 bedrooms or a mansion set in hundreds of acres.

Nor will I be buying a fancy hideaway in Spain or a villa with its own swimming pool and sauna.

No, all I want is a house that doesn't have a flat roof.

Brighton and Hove must have more houses with flat roofs than any other town (sorry, city) in the UK.

You'll find them at the rear of the countless Victorian and Edwardian terrace houses - houses just like mine - that line our suburban roads and streets.

Now mine has sprung a leak.

Inevitably it started to drip and dribble when it was least convenient - not, of course, that I'm suggesting there's ever a good time for a roof to drip and dribble, just that some times are worse than others. New Year's Eve, for example.

The scene is my bathroom. Outside torrential rain is falling, accompanied by a fearsome wind. Inside is definitely the best place to be - until a drop of water falls on my head.

Startled, I look up and another drip just misses my eye, followed by another and another. Well, I always intended to have a shower installed but this was not quite what I had in mind.

The next morning The Mother wakes me to ask why there's a plastic bucket half-filled with water at the side of the bath.

I tell her I'm worried about the possibility of another hosepipe ban during the summer and to go back to sleep. There's nothing more I can do, after all, until normal services resume later in the week. Or is there?

On Wednesday I tell The Mother I intend to borrow a ladder and climb on to the roof and inspect any damage. She says she'll call the Samaritans and tell them I'm about to jump if I dare do anything so stupid.

On Friday my friend The Builder, who knows every floorboard and beam in Maison Leigh, calls and the news is not good. The roof needs replacing.

Oh, Happy New Year!

"No use sulking," says The Mother. "Work like that is essential if you want to maintain the value of your property." She sounds like an estate agent.

"It's not fair - I don't want a new flat roof," I moan. "What I want is a fitted kitchen, new carpets in the living room and built-in wardrobes in the bedrooms.

"Other people spend their money on home improvements they can show off to their friends - they have en suite bathrooms, ceramic-tiled floors, elegant conservatories and water features in their gardens. How can you show off a new flat roof?"

"Well if you don't get it mended all you'll be showing off will be a pile of rubble," says The Mother.

"The hole in the roof will get bigger and rain water will eventually bring the ceiling down, probably while you're sitting in the bath. You could end up downstairs in the kitchen sink."

That's what I like about The Mother, her unerring ability to look on the bright side.

On Monday morning I go into the bathroom and find an umbrella propped against the lavatory.

"Just in case . . .," says The Mother.