I am in a weird place right now. It feels comfortable, yet at the same time there’s a creeping dread in the back of my mind. It doesn’t let me settle totally; it keeps me thinking – what if? What if it goes wrong? What if you take a wrong turn? What if you break something in the communal kitchen?
I’m talking, naturally, of my living situation. My landlord is a nice guy, but at the same time slightly terrifying and potentially a bit mental. He has recently, as of yesterday I believe, evicted yet another tenant. I have lived here since August 2009 and have seen approximately 10-15 other housemates go through the mill in that time.
Some have gone of their own volition, usually because of the landlord’s strict rules*. Some have had to leave owing to financial difficulties. Some fell out with him but left amicably. The best ones, though, are the ones who have been told to get the fudge out. He doesn’t mess about, my landlord. He tells them to get out and they have 24 hours to vacate. If you’re not out, he’ll get you out – and he’s not exactly a bloke to be fucking about with. I think he could kill me with a single punch, but then I do have a glass jaw.
Then, the day after you’re gone, he’ll be at the house fitting a new lock and dishing out the new keys. This has happened four times since I’ve lived here.
So as you can gather, there’s good reason there’s always something playing on the back of my mind. I don’t really want to be forcibly evicted. So it’s good that I get on with him quite well, I’m not a dickhead, I pay my rent and I don’t cause trouble. And actually he’s quite a good landlord when you aren’t a knob with him. Yes, there’s the constant, simmering threat in the background of every conversation, but if you have a problem with your electrics he’ll fix it very quickly.
Can’t complain. Also won’t complain, lest I get turfed out.
*To be fair they’re mostly common sense, meaning I have no problem with them.