The shameless landlord

This text is part of a collection of flatsharing tales.

These short tales are rooted in reality, but to protect the identities of the main characters (and the writer’s own safety), certain details have been altered. The reader is invited to decide what is fact, and what is fiction.

On a side note, the author wishes some parts of the details were indeed fiction, and not reality.

I was sat at the kitchen table, enjoying a glass of wine with my mother. She was visiting me in this London flat for the first time. Set in a trendy, gentrified neighbourhood, the flat hosted four of us, a mix of students and young professionals. Four was the official number, we were more often seven or so than not. You know, the friend visiting for the weekend or the boyfriend “not moving in” but still there six days a week. Anyhow, the flat was surprisingly quiet that evening, and only my mother, myself and one other flatmate were present.

Midway through the glass, the front door opens. Nothing strange really, probably another flatmate coming back from work. I did not recognise however the voice or the way of walking.

“So here is the entrance, now let’s move towards the kitchen”, I hear.

“Mmmh.. hello?..”, I asked, not sure whether to be worried.

“Oh hi, uhm, it’s Jimmy, the landlord! Sorry I did not send the notice that I would come in today.”

Ah, so that was him. Bit rude not to give us a notice, but compared to other London landlords, Jimmy had been quite decent. There was only one other unannounced visit, at 6 am, just to use our toilets. But this is another story.

Who was he speaking with though? I moved towards the entrance and did not see one, but four girls following him.

“Uhm, yeah, really sorry about the notice thing. These ladies here are interested in renting the flat from September onwards. Can they visit?”

“What the hell?!”, I think it to myself but do not open my mouth - you know, fear of confrontation and that. Plus he is the landlord, he has the power.

So here he is letting four strangers in our privacy, and, in the same sentence, informs us that we have to find a new flat until september. I’m speechless.

“Well, I guess, there is no other option, is there?” - I am trying to remain calm but the idea of four girls visiting the flat now, and of having to find a new room in the coming months is slowly getting on my nerves.

My mum just stares silently and coldly at the landlord and the girls, glass in hand. Her eyes follow them entering the first bedroom, where lies my flatmate, in for a shock.

The door opens and he jumps on his feet, disturbed in the middle of a movie. They indeed did not knock or announce their presence. They just entered his bedroom. The girls look around, not disturbed in the slightest by the fact that this is not their room and that a half naked man is sat, shook, on his bed.

The visit proceeds. I follow them. Now they enter my room, and start lifting up my beauty products laying on the cupboard, clearly not remotely caring about the fact that I am there as well. Anyways, we’ll stop this story there.

One final line. I did ask why we were kicked out of the flat as of September. Turns out rent was going to increase by £80 a month minimum as of September, and landlord Jimmy thought it would be easier to get new students in instead of negotiating with us.