…between the ongoing battle of great home vs. great job that I blogged about roughly a week ago. I went to see a studio flat yesterday after work, with a rental tag of £85 pw (= bl00dy cheap for London).
So we went there to the viewing, and obviously I was expecting nothing much at that price. It was:
- in a rather rough area (just across the road was a huge, mostly boarded up estate; apparently there are fights between the two rival Hackney gangs in that area, and petrol bombs have been thrown etc.)
small. TINY. You could fit in one single bed and maybe one tiny wardrobe. The ‘kitchenette’ consisted of two hot plates, and the ‘bathroom’ was a tiny wet room with a very smelly toilet. The entire ‘flat’ was probably 10sqm in size, if that!
- noisy. High ceilings, old sash windows, directly by the main road. Obviously very thin internal walls seeing that the ‘landlord’ must have knocked a couple of former good-sized rooms into 4 studio flats.
- smelly. The stink emanating from the ‘bathroom’ was putrid, with foul gases that must have been trapped inside the toilet for a while
The reality suddenly hit me in the face: if I want to stay in London AND have my own space to live in (instead of, say, sharing with my BF or housesharing with my friend), I’ll have to either:
- completely compromise my standards and squeeze into a stinky, 10sqm shoebox you can’t turn around in, or
- waste a majority of my salary on a half decent, rented 1-bed-flat (= throwing money out of the window; burning it)
In effect, then, there is no solution really. If I am to stay in London, I won’t be able to have my own space.
PS: I wanted to post a pic of the horrid flat, seeing that I found it on an agency site the other day. However, it’s no longer there – so someone must have taken it. The desperation.