Rebecca Moore laments the probability her income is unlikely to ever come to terms with the price of houses in Oxford

I’ve been paying rent in Oxford for over five years now. It never gets any easier.

Each month it’s like that scene in the film Ghost, where Whoopi Goldberg struggles to hand over a charitable cheque to the nuns.

Except in this case, my ‘donation’ goes straight into the pockets of a landlord who owns half the houses in a square mile, nestled amongst these dreaming spires.

I unwillingly hand over a large slice of my paycheck to keep a very nice – and certainly cosy – roof over my head in this city.

I’m not a mortgage-paying kind of girl.

I realise this is the war-cry of all commitment-phobes – especially young women.

We’ve been nurtured by the heady frivolity of television shows like Sex And The City, where characters Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte were more interested in buying Jimmy Choo’s and drinking Cosmopolitans than saving for the deposit ofor a des-res.

I used to believe that I’m not a mortgage-paying kind of girl because the concept scares me and chains me to one spot.

Sure, that’s sort of true.

However, the main truth now is that, in Oxford at least, I am simply not earning enough to own my own place.

Based on my projected future salary – even basing this on the most optimistic and buoyant projections, including any far-reaching marriage prospects – I will be very, very lucky to ever own – or half-own – my home in Oxford.

My peers and I – struggling to make rent each month as it is – all know this.

We talk about it the way groups of three or more people discuss cancer.

We nod with acceptance, acknowledging how awful it is, while nervously eyeing each other, knowing that at least one of us will be dealt the Big C card.

More than once we’ve said out loud that, realistically, if we ever intend on owning a reasonably comfortable home we should probably be prepared to move away from this fine city.

And then comes a report on national house prices and average incomes, which confirmed how ridiculous living in Oxford has become.

It has been found that house prices in Oxford outstrip those of London when compared alongside our average incomes.

In 2014 the average house price in Oxford was £426,720, with an average annual income of roughly £27k.

In London, average house prices were slightly higher at £501,520, but so too were annual incomes, at approximately £32k. Ouch.

For me, the worst thing is that back home – in my admittedly underwhelming Norfolk home-town – my rent would be at least half what I pay here.

And I could purchase a house – with extra bedrooms and an actual garden – for £100,000.

I could probably earn roughly the same money as I do now.

Of course, I don’t want to live there – that’s why I’m here.

But it does make the monthly rent or mortgage payments here taste that much more bitter.

Meanwhile, Oxford Council has pledged to increase affordable housing in Oxford over the next 10 years.

So far they’ve been very proud of themselves because a development of just over 100 council houses is currently being built in Wood Farm.

One local couple with four children had been waiting 10 years to get placed somewhere that wasn’t a tower block and moved into one of the first homes recently.

There are plans for 485 council homes in the next 10 years.

Oxford is a nice place to live, don’t get me wrong.

It’s pretty, safe and is filled with green bits and characterful buildings.

I would shout about its hour commute to London, except this only happens when somebody’s sacrificed a virgin – or whatever it is you have to do around here to get the trains to run on time.

Yes, Oxford’s lovely – but it ain’t worth the rent I pay.

And it certainly isn’t worth an average house price of £426k.

Some perspective, please.