13.5.18

Sundays #12


This weekend I moved house.
Rather than feelings of excitement, all i really feel is anger.
Renting is shit. Truly shit.
I work in a kitchen and bathroom showroom and I hear a lot about how "we won't put a decent kitchen in because it's only a rental"...because apparently tenants...those who pay the mortgage for the house you use for your future retirement or pension....or for your second home in Spain...aren't worthy of the same respect, treatment or life you would give yourself.
I'm moving out because in two years I have had no heating in my lounge and dining room. For the first 2 months I had a gas fire...until that was condemned and a 6 months later I found myself, along with my children, huddled around a small electric heater just so we could enjoy opening Christmas presents feeling warm.
I paid £625 a month, never missing a months rent, to only be able to use 50% of the house for half of the year due to being so cold.
For a bath with a crack in it that slowly let's water out.
A shower which leaks. And half of a shower screen which does nothing to hold the water from dripping all over the floor.
For a double oven. One of which has never worked and the other which has no dials so it is a guessing game over whether or not your food will be cooked properly or will come out black.
A shed roof with a hole in...getting bigger...a shed full of electric sockets.
A fence at the back of the shed which was pretty much horizontal...providing little security from the car park behind and leaving your garden open to intruders.
A year of cladding being kept down the side passage...blocking the way for wheelie bins to be brought into the garden...causing bikes and various items being brought through the house, manoeuvring through the slightly poor designed kitchen. Cladding that was supposed to go up at the back of the house to make it look a bit better, to hide the peeling plaster.
Initially I wasn't moving because I wanted to. But more because I felt like I had to.
Because I actually deserve better. My children deserve better.
I shouldn't have to beg and chase for simple things you expect from a house, from a landlord or a letting agency.
Sitting on the floor of what was once Harry's room, trousers ruined from the bleach I am using to make an effort when it's the last thing I want to do, I am clinging on to my peace and trying to not lose my shit and cry at having to work hard sorting this house out, at having to leave the house in a reasonable state so I can try and get some of my deposit back.
Despite living the way I have for 2 years.
Despite begging for certain things to be done.
For moving with a washing machine with rust marks down it from where the boiler has been leaking for 2 years.
For asking for little jobs to be done and nothing being done.
For living in a house with no smoke alarms....Despite it being the law to provide them in a rented property.
Despite the landlady not spending a penny on things that needed to be sorted whilst I have been a tenant.
Two years of a letting agency saying they will get things sorted and placing blame on the landlady.
Two years of a landlady saying she will get things sorted and placing blame on the letting agency.
Tenants have rights. But you have to fight so hard for just the basics. And even harder for the rest.
Two years of no consideration because as a tenant...you don't matter.
Your money does.
But you don't.




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