Like most young people who lived in London (in my case between 64-68); I moved a lot. Sometimes I would only stay in a new flat for a matter of weeks.When I left school I worked in The City and my first bed-sit was in Bayswater; I think I was there for 6 months. Then for some bizarre reason I moved to Paddington Street, where I shared a tiny flat with an old school friend.
For those of you who know London, Paddington Street is not in Paddington; it's in Marylebone W1. On the other side of Oxford Street from Mayfair. Smart-ville, cosy-land, rich folk. But our small flat was a SLUM; ess ell you emm. Maybe it was the only true slum in fashionable W1.
There were huge bracket-mushrooms growing on the stairwell walls, the 'facilities' were Dickensian (sorry Dickens), and everywhere was damp.
The house was owned by an unwholesome so-called antique restorer, who had his workshop on the ground floor. He was a nasty, ugly, little man who spent his evenings either in cheap Soho strip joints, or even cheaper Kings Cross brothels.
One evening I returned home to find my flat mate and the owner rolling about on the floor in a full-on fist fight. I watched for a while wondering quite what to do, then picked the owner up by his collar and gave him a hefty single blow to the chin. This stopped the fight instantly (and almost broke my fist).
We were, of course, ordered to be out of the house by 9am the following morning, which we were quite happy about; other than having nowhere to go or put our stuff.
Most of our things we surreptitiously stored in the empty basement of a Launderette next door. This was later bricked up by the owner; I imagine all our stuff is still there to this day!
It's amazing what one puts up with when you're young. Did you have any similar rental experiences?
The first place I lived in when moving to Farham was that house I shared with you near Aldershot, Cro, with the woman and obese daughter - that was pretty similar eh?
ReplyDeleteMad as a hatter! I remember returning once, and finding her on the floor foaming at the mouth.
ReplyDeletefrom '66 to '76, life was a blur! It was one "event" after another. Haven't a clue of how or where I lived. Oh, how I miss those carefree days of just living for the moment and experience.
ReplyDeleteCan you imagine, years from now, when your bricked up belongings are discovered? They'll probably do a National Geographic documentary about it!
ReplyDeleteI once shared a hovel in saltney just outside of chester with a buxom psychiatric nurse called judith
ReplyDeleteit was so cold we had ice INSIDE the windows and when I found mouse droppings INSIDE the gas cooker....I moved back home with mybin bags under my arm!
All I remember is the scent of cumin and curry. It permeated the apartment complex.
ReplyDeleteAn early dwelling was in a building that had been a free-standing neighborhood grocery store, owned by my future in-laws, who purchased it for the investment and did NOTHING to the place, which was, uh, rustic. A stucco building in Seattle is a bad idea: think "sponge" and "mold". The roof leaked. An itinerant band of musicians crashed downstairs, and played music at all hours and at all volumes and would borrow my boyfriend's car, copy his keys, and go up to our kitchen when we were at work and cook and eat ALL our food and not even bother to clean up. But the rent was cheap, the view of downtown and several bodies of water was astounding, the parties numerous and we were young, in love, and believed that anything was possible. Sigh. My Bohemian days.
ReplyDeleteAh, T. Those were the days!
ReplyDeleteFor me this post bought on envy,like a child locked out of the lolly shop and everyone else having a feast lol...At 62 I have yet to know what it feels like to have my own room! from birth till 10 I shared a room with my older brother, we then left the marriage home to live far away with my grandparents and I shared a room with my mother,I got married at 21 from that home to the marriage bed and sharing a room with Bob,i lived such a sheltered life,I mentioned once that I wished to move out and live with a freind the reaction was like a bomb dropping so i never mentioned it again,timid litle me lol however I loved hearing the tales of workmates who were flatting and they loved to get invited back for one of my nanas feeds.
ReplyDeleteps...I meant i asked the family at 18 about moving out not Bob lol...just to clarify that although the thought has crossed my mind lol
ReplyDeleteI never had to deal with other tenants like this.... you do have the stories, I must say! :)
ReplyDeleteI also have either lived with my parents or husband but I always dreamed of being on my own, living in an apartment in some romantic city. My closest experience to that was getting a shore apartment in Wildwood, New Jersey with a few friends for a couple of weeks in the summer of my 19th year. It was dingy and small, the bathroom was down the hall, and there was only one bed for 3 people. As I lay in the bed with my face up to the wall, I noticed a hole and an eye peeking in at me. I don't quite recall my first reaction, but I do remember inviting the fellow over afterwards. He was by himself (now I wonder why), and there were 3 of us girls. It was a different world then and we knew little about perverts. We felt safe; we were so naive. However, nothing happened and I remember the four of us chatting and playing cards for hours. We never rented a room in that house again.
ReplyDeleteSO AC M. Maybe a water pistol filled with vinegar and chilli powder might have been more effective as a deterrent. What a nasty creep!
ReplyDeleteI am just so glad to have kissed goodbye to the grotty bedsits and dodgy landlords of my youth. No romance about them at all, apart from the bodies that were in them, of course! Starting Over's experience gives me the creeps and reminds me just how vulnerable I was at times in my teens and early twenties; one or two hitch-hiking events that could so easily have ended badly.
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