YOU may have heard of the term “parallel universe”. It is described by Wikipedia as “a hypothetical self-contained reality co-existing with one’s own”. I think I may inhabit one myself. Often, when making a suggestion in a domestic situation – proposing a holiday destination, say, or volunteering my services for a DIY task, I will be greeted with a scornful “Oh aye, and what planet do you live on?”

I’m not alone, though. I can think of many politicians who do not dwell in the same world as the rest of us; similarly, one or two of our more bubble-headed celebrities.

However, the master of the hypothetical self-contained reality has to be the estate agent. By way of example, you and I, if we are fortunate, might have a spare room. The head of upmarket property sellers Savills, however, spoke at the weekend of properties that have a “snoring room” – to where one partner might retire to get a good night’s sleep when the other half is doing the nasal sawmill act.

It’s a neat term, if uncommonly prosaic for an estate agent. Normally such things are VIP guest suites. The gent was rather letting the side down, though he did manage to add a suspiciously snooty “as wealth increases, demand for comfort increases”.

I consider myself an expert in estate agent-speak, having taken a correspondence course on the subject. At the end of it I could confidently describe myself as being of an unobtrusive height (short), with a girth that bears eloquent testimony to a jovial nature (beer belly).

I live in a house which has many unspoiled period features (needs decorating) with a mature garden (grass needs cutting) in a semi-rural setting (no shops). I have friends of a bohemian nature (drunks), one of whom is married to a woman with a highly-developed sense of right and wrong (a nag). He, however, is of an uncommonly ardent nature (will chase anything with a skirt and a pulse), so there may be an element of cause and effect there.

I drive a bijou (small) car renowned for its safety features (can’t get above 60), though I often rely on a community-financed frequent-use conveyance (a bus). Twice daily, I will indulge in a game of chance (I will board a ScotRail train).

I labour at a news-gathering and shared-discourse facility (The Herald), and follow a football team with a colourful history (relegated) with challenging ambitions (desperate to win promotion). Often, this has a deleterious effect on my emotional equilibrium, and I will over-indulge in grain-based distillates. That is when we could really use a snoring room.