London is an incredible city. The rent market is not. In September we thought we hit the jackpot with our incredible cheap and chic apartment. For as nothing as £1400 pcm (bills inc.) we got 2 rooms in a brand new apartment, with a view of the London skyline. A dream, right? Too good to be real you may say. And oh, how right you are, dear reader. Indeed, we each paid £700 per month, but the gas and electricity were not included, we didn’t have a proper contract, the property manager blocked our numbers so we couldn’t call him with our little problems (one of these insignificant problems being the presence of mice in my room) and so on.
Here are some of the issues we had:
After a month we were told by our neighbours that the property is a council flat. Mhm, that explains a lot. I completely understand if you are shocked, but hang on, there’s more. As we were staying there illegally we were not allowed to make a bank transfer for the rent. Instead, we had to walk around the city with the payment for the rent in cash in our wallets.
For a month or so I could have sworn that I was completely crazy (not that it isn’t true, but you can call me crazy for other reasons). Every time I got back home from work I found my windows opened, even though I was 100% sure I didn’t open them in the morning. I started to doubt my brain, and I started to believe that I actually opened the windows without being aware of my actions. It wasn’t me. The property manager entered my room without asking for my permission and did whatever he wanted to, including opening my windows. There were also times when he booked viewings in our rooms without letting us know about it and so on.
Andreea ‘s fault
No matter what happened inside that apartment, outside of it or 1000km away from London, it was always my fault. I had a rat in my room: your fault because you are sometimes eating in your room (yes, because someone else is in the kitchen, it’s 8.00 pm and I just got back from work starving and in 2 hours I should be snoring). My walls were covered in mould: my fault because I don’t sleep with the window open. The washing machine is leaking: my fault because I don’t take care of the property. The window handle is broken: yes because I’m a secret Wrestling champion who has enough force to break a window. And soooo many more. So if you break something in your apartment, please just say to your landlord ‘Andreea’s fault’.
There are many more other problems we had but there are no hours in a day to write about all of them. This post is not about me complaining (ok, maybe it is a bit) but rather a heads up for you to take extra care when you sign for something way too good to be real. Fairy tales don’t exist (or at least not in London) and something that looks like a palace is definitely just a fake cover.