Rubbish is history

I found my landlady lurking at the bottom of the garden today, as one does. The debris revealed by the garden’s defoliation is interesting, I found a chunk of Victorian Delft tile from the original kitchen, and also discovered that a strange block of concrete, which I always assumed was a barbecue foundation, is actually the initial step of a vanished path.

It’s been fairly fierce here for the past few days because the front of the house now has no protection from the southerly wind which whistles under my door from Satan’s own Frigidaire. I asked my landlady if  the gardener was going to return to finish trimming the view from the back garden – one of the house’s selling points if you happen to be levitating ten feet in the air. She said they weren’t going to cut the trees because they shelter our neighbours from the southerly.  It’s important to consider these things, she said.

My face at that moment must’ve been quite a study.

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One Response to “Rubbish is history”

  1. Grrr, I feel for you!
    One of my past flats was on the market for about six months. They made us vacate the house for an hour on Sundays, so they could run open homes, and brought buyers through at other times (often with very little notice). The real estate agents and property managers were from the same company. No discount in rent or anything.
    We were on a fixed term tenancy which didn’t expire for another 9 months, and they were convinced this was a barrier to the house being sold. No surprise that we got two tenancy breach notices (totally unjustified) in one week then (after 2 years of no problems)!

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