I’ve been on the property ladder since 1998 – a year in which someone was pretending to hold that ladder steady so it seemed alright to climb on. They were lying. They weren’t staying at all: they were holding it til you got on, then they legged it and took your purse with them for good measure. Bastards.
In Dublin, I’m somebody’s landlord. Here in London, I’m somebody’s rent bitch. I want to make it clear, I never refer to my own tenants as rent bitches – they’re great. Well, the current ones are. The ones before the current ones used to come to me with problems like “The curtains don’t quite close all the way when I use the draw-cord.” I advised them to pull them to with their hands at the end. They marvelled at my ingenuity. They also complained about the water pressure. It’s low. The property is on a very level piece of land – no hills for miles; I did have one of those fancy showers (the kind that’d take the face off you if you weren’t careful) put in to rectify that, but when I lived there, there didn’t seem to be any further issues in that regard. I try to be a nice landlord but, let’s face it, there’s nothing I can do about geography. They claimed that “not everything (was) flushing and it (was) causing quite some bother.” I sent a plumber round but stopped short of recommending Bran Flakes and a personality transplant. The plumber found nothing and the new tenants have had no such problems.
I watch property development shows with a mixture of awe and horror: in my present situation, I can’t believe I was ever in a position to buy and the idea of the stress and financial outlay is like a clammy hand around my heart. But the courage of those brave, rich telly people! “Rip out that back wall!” I cry. “Buy it, buy that second property, you fool!” I urge. Forget armchair gymnastics: living vicariously through these people gets my heart-rate higher than any extreme sport ever could.
The thought of anything devaluing my own property keeps me awake at night: thanks, economy, for doing that for me anyway, despite all amounts of maintenance and repair. It took my landlord here quite some time to repair a leak in my ceiling. I would never have let it go in mine. I’d be too afraid the ceiling would fall in and I’d be sued and I wouldn’t have the option to re-sell. It’s not because I’m nice, we’ve established that. I’ve paid for carpet and upholstery cleaning, too. It’s expensive, but I want to keep good tenants happy.
The way the Irish market went last year, I had to drop the rent to compete. I’m now working at a slight loss and it’s terrifying. Let’s just say, I’m not in danger of having trouble flushing. So I’m having to wean myself off property shows, at least til I land my next job. My heart simply isn’t able for it.
