DOESN'T time fly when you're having fun?

It was only when we received a letter off the bank saying our fixed rate mortgage was coming to an end that we realised we’d been in our first proper home for two years now.

It feels like only five minutes ago that we pulled-up outside our two-bed semi for the first time (after months of anxious waiting for the contracts to be signed, crossing our fingers that we wouldn’t be “gazumped”) and tentatively stepped through the front door.

Everything looked a bit different to how we’d remembered it (to be fair, we’d only viewed it twice and both those times had been in darkness) and it smelled a bit funny.

Of course, there were the usual teething problems (a dodgy boiler, damp walls) and we were even wondering whether we’d bought a dud.

But then my homeowner friends let me in on a little secret — everybody thinks that at first.

And there were definitely things that we hadn't noticed on the viewings — the stained carpets, scratched laminate floors, and dog food splattered up the dining room wall (yuk!) Like most first-time buyers, our first six months-worth of weekends were spent either at The Range, Ikea, and B&Q, or dressed in old paint-stained tracksuit bottoms sanding, glossing, painting or wallpapering.

And one-by-one we ironed out the little problems and slowly added our own mark.

The last two years have definitely been memorable, that’s for sure.

One time that sticks in the mind particularly is the morning we woke up to a leak dripping from the bedroom ceiling . . . on to the pillow.

Another time was when we plotted the dimensions of the new bumper three-seater sofa we’d just ordered from DFS on the living room floor using CD cases and realised we wouldn’t actually be able to open the front door if we got it.

But although we’ve had our ups and downs in the house and, like most others who bought homes in 2007, it's probably not even worth what we paid for it any more (I'm too scared to actually find out if this is true), I wouldn’t change a second for the world.

Because there's something about actually owning your own bricks and mortar that makes you feel as though you’re truly home.

In many countries around the world few people buy their own homes, choosing instead to rent.

I can see the attraction of this. Shower broke? Call the landlord. Roof caved in? Let's move.

But there's something in the old saying “an Englishman’s home is his castle”.

Being in your own house gives you a feeling of security a rented home can't.

This Welsh woman feels the same way. Our house might not be perfect and, let's be honest, it may never be properly finished — but at least it's ours.