Jude and a roommate at Wadham College, Oxford, where a return visit yielded only blank walls. Photograph: Jude Rogers Rent strikes are controversial but guess what, people win,” she says. “And bailiff resistance is controversial, but guess what, people win. And confronting an estate agent or a racist landlord is very precarious work, but guess what, people win.” The idea of a “home” as we know it – as a place of settlement and sanctuary – is tied to the ancient basics of who we are, says Michael Allen Fox, author of the recently published Oxford University Press philosophy primer, Home: A Very Short Introduction. “Much of the activity that is of particular significance to various cultures occurs in what might be described as buildings of one kind or another: eating, sleeping, sexual activity, rituals, births and deaths, work and so on,” he observes. “Humans, like other animals, leave marks of use on their nesting places, which give these places identity and meaning. For humans, this also creates environments of attachment to which they have reasons to return.”

All the Houses I've Ever Lived In is probably one of the best books to describe how perfectly the UK is failing many people and the many ways in which the housing system is designed to work against you and not for you. Kieran takes us through the different houses she has lived through in her life and how in turn each government/system has repeatedly failed her. This is a really good memoir not only does Keiran take us through her life and struggles with the housing system but she educates the reader on how it all works. From explaining laws to dealing with bailiffs and landlords and how to make home anywhere. She also highlights housing in regards to class, inequality and gentrification, racism and major negligence and explores Grenfell. This book is amazingly written and resonated with me deeply everyone should read this book. Being in this flat made me realise, more than ever, that a home is not just about a house but about the networks that surround it. Dan, the young father of this family, was born and brought up in Dalston, his mother living in social housing nearby. Homelessness had happened suddenly to him, his partner and child, and the distance they experienced from support, in all senses, was tough. Housing precarity is relentless disruption. But it has led me to new questions about home. I have lived somewhere and nowhere and everywhere. I have lived in places where I might have been turned away thanks to racist policy at other points in history. I have lived in unfit corners, places that taught me how to make, lose and love a bedroom. I have learned that as we advocate for something better, it is comforting to focus on the joys.The bunting marks Charles and Diana’s wedding as Jude, right, plays outside her first home. Photograph: Jude Rogers In the book you touch upon how housing ownership has become an unattainable dream for most. Do you think we should put effort towards making it a possible reality, or invest in alternative modes of housing and living? There is a deep feeling of powerlessness at the heart of being a renter today, at the mercy of a system that often feels like landlords and letting agents hold each and every card. I recently had the experience of having my rent raised by 22 per cent, actually a negotiation down from a proposed 33 per cent hike. This forced me, heartbroken, to begin the search for home number 19, only to give up when faced with the scarcity of house share rooms available, and figure out a way to absorb this huge additional cost. What successive governments have done over the last 50 years is make it their business for us to see ourselves as separate interest groups. Middle class homeowners and working class people, usually in social housing, see themselves as separate interest groups, for example. But homeowners need to see themselves as part of this crisis. It is their responsibility to advocate for better housing for everybody, to say, ‘I’m going to join a tenants’ union, I want to advocate for long-term, private rented accommodation for everybody to be affordable and to be good quality, I want to advocate for a rent cap’. And to say that ‘now I have gained a semblance of stability, I want that for everybody’. It’s not about, you know, inhabiting your castles and raising the drawbridge. It’s about saying ‘okay, I’ve got some of this, how do I make that accessible to everybody?’.

He vaguely remembers his old house. I used to avoid talking about it, worried it would make him confused or despondent, but now we talk about what it had and what our new house has. I also talk about the other places where I’ve lived and the people I’ve met who now live there, people who have opened their doors with warmth and welcome.As a serial renter, I had to endure months of housemate auditions, sitting in strangers’ kitchens and expected to perform an optimised version of myself. Sometimes there were group interviews, all of us shuffling in together like a Lord of the Flies-style social experiment, where the most brazen among us made loud jokes. Some candidates had the genius sales gene and discussed things that were mainstream enough to elicit positive reaction: usually The Wire.