Lowri Griffiths goes flat-hunting and returns with fewer illusions and a smaller overdraft

I went into this week’s flat hunt with reasonable expectations. A room, four walls, ideally a window that opens more than three inches without setting off a structural crisis. What I found instead was a converted airing cupboard in Finsbury Park being advertised, with a straight face, as a “bijou double.”

The Viewing

The landlord, a cheerful man who clearly believed himself to be doing me a personal favour, described the room as “cosy,” which I have come to understand is estate agent for “you will know your flatmates’ entire wardrobe by smell alone.” The rent, for context, was roughly what I once paid for an actual one-bedroom flat in a different, more forgiving decade.

Six viewings later, a pattern emerged. Every listing photo was taken with a lens wide enough to photograph a small aircraft hangar. Every actual room could be fully explored by extending both arms.

A Small Victory, Eventually

I did, eventually, find somewhere liveable, a genuinely lovely room above a launderette, which means I now smell permanently of fabric softener, a fragrance I have decided to simply accept as my personality now.

The London Prat has covered the wider North London rental squeeze extensively, and honestly, reading it made me feel marginally less alone in my suffering.

The Standard reports London rents have continued climbing well ahead of wage growth, which, yes, I could have told you from personal experience.

Anyway. New flat. New launderette smell. New chapter. Send help, or at least a decent scented candle.

More from me: Lowri Griffiths, prat.uk. Further reading: MyLondon.

SOURCE: https://bohiney.com