It’s been referred to as “the hole of doom” – it’s the place from which the din of Youtube rings, sofa wrestling settles remote-based disputes and a space that style (and I) forgot; it’s our lounge. Since our mammoth extensions were ‘finished’ (I use that word very loosely!), the lounge has become somewhere to assemble rowdy tweens for giant sleepovers, chuck/hide all Casper’s brightly coloured, plastic tat and very occasionally retire to once all the kids have gone to bed (that’s between 9.30pm and when I doze off 5 minutes later!). It’s been promised a plywood barn sliding door, a dramatic colour splash and layered rugs to make a Persian prince envious – but so far, I’ve failed to deliver on its style makeover.