I never imagined that I would be a middle-aged tenant. Yet, since my divorce 14 years ago, I no longer own a home and I'm not sure I ever will again.
The day I left behind my mortgaged property was bright and sunny and deliciously warm. I had no sense of failing, not then. I was looking forward to moving myself, my two boys and our cat, into a three bedroomed rented property I had chosen for us - just around the corner from my parents, and in the neighbourhood where I had grown up. Where, as a young girl I had walked nearby paths, searched for glimpses of shiny fish in the rivers and blossomed in nature's hug.
Following the removal van to the new house, the boys and I sang along to the Wiggles cd playing in the car. The large plastic box filled with dinky cars that my four-year-old refused to let go off, rattled on his knee as he made the gesture of an elephant waving its trunk. My six-year-old hammed it up in the seat next to him. And I grinned from ear to ear, confident I was doing the right thing for them, for us, and that I'd be back on the housing ladder in no time.
I had bought my first property when I was just 18 years of age. That isn't as remarkable as it sounds. Back in the day, the property I had purchased, a modest two up - two down terraced house on the outskirts of a Northern town, was a mere £28.000. The deposit had been £560.
My first house wasn't in the most sought-after area, nor did it have any 'must-have' features. But it was mine, and I was proud.
Then I met a man, who also had a house, in a nicer area, with a garden. Before long, I was persuaded to put my humble abode out to rent and move in with him. And here my circle of independence neglect began.
Twelve years after I'd signed the dotted mortgage line, twelve years of relationship break-ups that saw me return to my home, multiple cleaning operations to delete the disgraceful mess of disrespectful and disappearing tenants, and new relationships that saw me leave and repeat the whole cycle again, I sold my simple dwelling in favour of a joint mortgage with a man, soon to become my husband.
We purchased a modest bungalow with crumbling window frames, overgrown gardens, and a kitchen older than I. Together we envisaged the home it would become for us and our two beautiful boys and got stuck into renovation.
But, three years later, I found myself single again. Only this time, I had larger mortgage repayments, plenty of 'house improvement' debt, two hungry growing boys to feed and an unemployed soon to be ex-husband who was unable to contribute. Fighting bankruptcy, I searched the rental market until I found something suitable and relinquished the keys to our negative-equity 'home' to the mortgage lender. A 'temporary' measure, I reassured myself.
Almost 15 years later, I am still in the 'temporary measure'. My fifth temporary measure to be exact - three of those four house moves not being through choice but because of landlords wanting to either sell their property or move back in.
Statistics assure me that I am not alone; a third of people aged 50 and above are #renters. And many, like me, cite their divorce as the reason. But knowing that I am not alone in my predicament doesn't stop me worrying about it.
The truth is I don't want to #rent for the rest of my life. Yes, there are advantages; any ongoing costs of maintenance and buildings insurance, are the responsibility of my landlord, and as my children grow up and move away, I won't find myself tied to an area. But any novelty of renting has worn off.
After all these years I find myself craving some stability. I ache to paint a wall whatever colour I want; I envy people who buy curtains or blinds knowing that they will be there to watch them fade in the sunlight. I want to be part of a neighbourhood, not always a newcomer. I can't wait to design a kitchen, plant a garden and more than anything, I long to null and void the voice in my head which constantly reminds me that I might soon find myself having to pack up and move on again.
The boys and I have been lucky enough to rent some lovely properties. We have always managed to find houses that tick our boxes; at least three bedrooms, garden space, good transport links etc. But I'd sacrifice so many 'tick boxes' to have watched the children grow without having to move away from friends or pack up their stuff in the middle of an academic year. I've lost count of the number of times they've asked if we can put shelves up or decorate their room or renew an out-dated carpet. And I have always had to say no.
They both say they're not bothered, but despite my dressing every move in positivity and excitement, moving house five times in their precious childhoods must have left a mark on them.
In my experience, tenancy contracts here in the United Kingdom are usually six or twelve months - I have once managed to negotiate eighteen months but not all landlords are happy to increase the contract length. I'd like to see this period increased.
Tenants of unfurnished properties in France are afforded a three-year contract, and the landlord cannot cancel the lease for any reasons other than non-payment of rent, a security deposit, or the non-adherence to a renter's insurance plan. In contrast the tenant can put an end to the lease contract, with three months' notice, whenever, and for any reason. And that's not the best bit - a French landlord cannot prohibit you from having pets of any kind.
In the United Kingdom, under Section 21 of The Housing Act 1988, a landlord can ask you to move out of your rented property at the end of the tenancy contract for no reason (with six months' notice). This 'no-fault eviction' means that a family could be forced to move house every 12-18 months. And I know from experience how hard that is emotionally, physically and financially.
The financial hardship aspect is addressed in San Francisco - the United States city has set out that tenants being evicted on a no-fault basis are entitled to receive relocation expenses from the landlord. I can't tell you how helpful that would have been for me.
And the topic of finances moves me nicely on to my final rant.
I can hear you all yelling at me as you read this; 'Buy then. Stop moaning and buy a house'.
Well, I will - but increasing rental prices have made it hard to save a deposit. I'm nearly there now.
Research shows that.
Renters in Britain spend 30.93% of their income on rent
Rent prices in the United Kingdom rose by 1.2% in the 12 months between July 2020 and July 2021. They’ve increased by 10.7% since January 2015.
As of July 2021, the average rental price for a new tenancy in the United Kingdom was £1,029 per calendar month.
To put that into context when I first started to rent, I paid £695 a month. I now pay more than double that.
I'm not sure if there was another way out of my situation all those years ago when my marriage soured, but if I'd have known that I was to become victim to no-fault eviction three times in four years, and if I'd have foreseen the rising rental prices, I definitely would have fought a little harder to keep our crumbling home.
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