From the day I got my first Saturday job my mum made it clear that if I was earning a wage I had to contribute to the household. She took a third of my wages every week. I often silently cursed her when I was down to my last few coins- although I understood it was fair, I had friends whose parents had never asked them for rent.

She took it a bit easier on me when I was doggedly saving for my first mortgage, dropping the rent to a quarter of my wages per week. I kept thinking how much quicker I could get on the property ladder if I didn't have to keep handing money over to her, but she never let me off which meant I had to be very responsible with my money to build that deposit.

Finally I had enough to put a down payment on a house- a solid little two bedroomed place with the most horrendous decor you had ever seen- chipped paint and grubby 1970s carpets. Ghastly…but it was mine.

The day my house was secured, my mum sat me down at the kitchen table. She handed me a savings book, and told me it was mine.

Every single penny I had ever handed her as rent was saved in that account, for me.

She took my wages to teach me responsibility, then once the lesson was learned she gave me it all back. It paid to decorate and furnish my entire little house.

I'm further on in my career now, and in a much bigger house. But I've kept virtually every piece of my original furniture, as it came with so much love.