It was all going to be so easy. I’d sold my flat in London, bought a house in Exeter, where my girlfriend, her two boys and our one-on-the-way were going to live in provincial bliss, and I would commute to the capital to work three days a week, staying with friends and house-sitting.

My girlfriend was not so sure. “You’ll either have no friends or go up the wall, or both by Christmas,” she said. “Pah,” I responded. “This will be a way for me to stay in touch with London chums and not have to fork out for a week’s rent, mortgage or hotel bills — it’ll be a breeze.”

My first week of house-sitting was in a pal’s huge, stylishly minimal Primrose Hill pad. “Go up the wall, hah!” I laughed as I reclined on the sofa, making the most of his plasma screen. “Have no friends — yeah right!” I snorted as I reached forward to pick up my tea from his trendy leather coffee table.

Only, as I lifted the mug, some of the leather came away with it. Panicking, I spilled tea over the sofa. Trying to turn off the television, I hit the wrong button, creating 42in of white noise that wouldn’t stop no matter what I pressed. Brilliant: a ruined table, a stained sofa and a broken television all in 10 seconds flat.

The rest of the night was spent trying to repair the damage with any cleaning product I could find. Eventually I gave up and ordered something on the net that arrived after I left and which I hoped would do the trick.

Perhaps I’d have better luck the next week, with a friend in Islington. I took him out for a slap-up meal on the first night to say “thank you” for allowing me to stay. It wasn’t until we reached dessert that he told me that I’d be on an inflatable mattress and the spare room had no curtains. There was no washing machine and I’d better be careful in the shower because the tiles were likely to fall off the wall at any moment.

I can’t complain, I thought — but the constant readjustment of my lifestyle was becoming more and more apparent.

Next stop was a flat in Finsbury Park. “Make sure you take off your shoes,” said the owner. Fine, I said. “Are you okay with spiders?” he asked. “There are quite a few scampering about the place.” That isn’t a problem, I assured him. “How about mice?” he asked. Yes, actually, that is a problem. Particularly if I can’t chase them out of the house because I’m not wearing shoes.

Throw in a £50 driving fine from Camden council for not knowing the road system round King’s Cross, and you could say that my first few weeks of nomadic life in London weren’t exactly going to plan.

I needed something more permanent — and, after a little research, I found that I wasn’t alone. Judy Niner, managing director of Mondaytofriday.com, a website that matches landlords with fractional renters, has about 100 would-be lodgers on her books at any one time, and has dealt with nearly 3,000 landlords since launching the site two years ago.

“It’s an established way of living,” she said. “For whatever reason — starting a job, being on contract, not wanting to move a family — people want a short-term living arrangement that’s different to a hotel or a B&B.” And different from staying with friends? “Absolutely. Staying with friends is often not seeing your friends on your own terms. Sometimes you just want not to talk and would prefer beans on toast to a dinner party. It can prove exhausting.”

But Niner tells her landlords that they’ll get their homes back at the weekend, so my more unusual quest — for a bed on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights — continued.

Next, I tried Doctor in the House, an agency set up 22 years ago to find rooms for doctors in London and Edinburgh. The growth in the fractional renting market means it has now opened its doors to other professionals seeking rooms away from home during the week. I explained my plight to the agency’s Tiggy Hooper to see if she could help.

“The rooms we have available are £42 a night, but it’s not as expensive if you rent for more than three nights a week on a regular basis,” she said. This was a little out of my league. Hooper does, however, think the market will continue to grow, particularly in London. “We’re planning to expand to help find accommodation for those involved with the Olympics in London in 2012.”

Where next? Since I’d be the epitome of the easy roommate, I visited Easyroommate.com. But once again, it had no section for the fractional renter. “A weekly rate is the shortest time any of our landlords will specify — more often it’s monthly,” said Frank Perri, who works for the website. “However, you can include your requirements on the personal statement section and you never know when the exception may occur. But I think it more likely you’ ll find what you’re looking for in the hotel/motel/B&B sector.”

Surely there’s someone out there who wants a flatmate they’re never going to see, who doesn’t want to move anything in apart from three shirts, some underwear and a washbag, and who will pay £300 a month? My search continues. I just hope I find somewhere before I have no friends left, and before I’ve not only gone up the wall but over the edge as well.

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