I make the decision to move across the country temporarily to look after a very ill family member. It’s likely to be for at least six months, probably longer.
Rather than sell my flat, I put it up for rent and let an agency manage the day-to-day. Luckily, it gets let very quickly, the monthly rent is secure, and I don’t have to worry about it. The tenants are made aware that it’s a six-month deal with a slim chance of extension. They are given six months’ notice as they sign up.
It’s not long before I get requests from the tenants through the agency about the flat. Can they hang up pictures, can they paint this wall, can they put the tumble dryer somewhere else?
I flat-out say no. It’s a short-term let. I’m not having someone redecorate my flat.
Nearly six months pass. Things aren’t going well with the family member, yet I have to make the trip back to my home city for an inspection of the flat before signing the existing tenants for another six months.
When I get inside, it’s clear that they have ignored every declination. Everything I said no to has been done, and more: rooms are painted, appliances and furniture are missing, and there’s damage in the strangest places.
I’m horrified. I’ve been through a lot this year; I don’t need this, as well.
Me: “What the h*** happened here?”
Tenant: “What do you mean?”
Me: “My flat — why have you decorated it?!”
Tenant: “It’s only paint. I think it looks better.”
Me: “Where the h*** is my furniture? Where is the tumble dryer?”
Tenant: “Chill out, it’s safe. It’s in storage.”
Me: “What storage?!”
Tenant: “The basement storage.”
Me: “I don’t own any storage! It’s probably been thrown out by now.”
Tenant: “Just chill out. I’ll get another one.”
Me: “Yeah, you will, or I’m kicking you out.”
He goes on and on about his “rights”. It only takes a quick phone call to the agency for them to explain he is way out of order and detail just how many times and in how many ways they explicitly told him not to do this.
Tenant: “Well, what now, then?”
Me: “I don’t renew your term, I kick you out, and your deposit goes partway to fixing everything you ruined.”
Tenant: “What? But I don’t have anywhere to go!”
Me: “And?”
Tenant: “What if I fix it?”
Me: “Fix it? The whole flat. In two weeks? I don’t think so.”
Tenant: “Come on. My mate is a decorator. I’ll put it right.”
I should say no, but I am tired and emotional.
Me: “Just paint the walls magnolia. The damage gets repaired professionally by my guy. You replace my property.”
Tenant: “No worries. I’ll get it done.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised when I got a call from the tenant telling me he had decided not to seek an extra six months at the flat. When I got back the keys, I found that he had made a half-a**ed attempt at painting the walls and repairing some of the damage.
He left a broken tumble dryer and didn’t replace the furniture. He had the cheek to try to get back his deposit, which was unsuccessful.
The flat sat empty for another five months as I still couldn’t afford to get it back to a good standard.
Never again.
