With the spectre of recession looming and the housing crisis becoming deeper by the day, I imagine there are a lot of unhappy people out there who have been repossessed and are now tenants. I was thinking about my previous experiences as a tenant and as a landlord – none of them were easy.
As a tenant, my first experience after graduating from university was living in a shared house where Paul and John would have constant parties with the stereo turned up full (even when they left the premises), the police were called round on occasion and neighbours would complain, there were numerous people sleeping on the lounge floor in the morning, drugs on the coffee table, beer everywhere, and the sink was permanently full of dirty dishes. Ugh. This was especially aggravating as I was studying for my law exams at the time and didn’t need all this noise and stress.
In the next shared house, the live-out girlfriend Jenny was jealous of me getting along with her boyfriend Neil who was also my landlord and lived in the house. You could have cut the tension with a knife. Jenny acted as if she owned the place, would come in and put her boots on the kitchen table, and would order me about. Huh. I left but before doing so, I paid a visit to the local pet shop and purchased some mice and crickets for them as a leaving present.
In the next shared flat, my flatmate Michelle would bring a string of men back to stay over, giving me a nice view of the almost-naked male form in the mornings, in all its different shapes and sizes. She also invited the local squatters to use our home as if it was theirs. I would often hear her advising her friends to get an abortion as if it was some kind of shopping trip, then when she got drunk, she would break down in tears about the abortion that she’d had. She refused to pay her share of the bills and stole cash from me. So I turned off the boiler until she decided to move out.
Her replacement Pete constantly pulled his toenails and left the clippings all over the lounge carpet, he helped himself to any alcohol I had lying around, and was permanently slumped in front of the tv. He went back to live with his 76 year old girlfriend who lived across the street – Pete was 30. Ugh.
His replacement Al wasn’t much better. Unfortunately I decided Al would make a nice boyfriend but he turned out to be beneath contempt. Abusive isn’t a good enough word for him.
Being a landlord was an interesting experience. At first I managed my own rent collections. Georgina was a good tenant, and left the house as she found it, but she only stayed for six months. The next tenant, Rob, would ring me up every time something went wrong, even when a window latch that had come off (ever heard of screws, Rob?). I didn’t check my bank statements for a few months and then realised he hadn’t paid his rent for 2 months. I chased him and he moved out without paying up. The next tenants were a nice couple, Rick and Cheryl – no problems from them. I decided to sell up and my buyer kicked them out, saying she wanted to put in her own tenants. On the day we were due to exchange contracts, she pulled out of the sale and I had no buyer and no tenants! I got another buyer and things went through smoothly. Now I’m renting again and keeping an eye on the housing market. Footloose and fancy free.
Writing this post reminded me of my Italian friend Rosa’s landlord, when we were at law school. He wouldn’t let her have any hot water or heating. We used to sit in her flat, drinking espresso and shivering while we tried to do some work. It was freezing. In fact, it was warmer outside than it was inside, it was THAT cold. When she moved out after her exams, her brothers paid a visit. They peed all over the walls and left a huge carton of milk unopened in the lounge, and didn’t bother informing the landlord she had moved out. Ouch.
Posted by Miss Norty 
Posted by Miss Norty 
Posted by Miss Norty 
