Michelle Hanson's 24 year old daughter is flat hunting and wants mum's advice - and help on finding the right one ....
Daughter is looking for a flat as she no longer wishes to live with her Mummy and Grandma, but will I help her to look?
Will I ring and make appointments, because how can she do it if she's busy working and at college and and will I not say 'student' to prospective landlords or agents, because no one wants students, and will I make sure to ask if there's any outside space, what's the transport like blah blah blah. And then will I please come and inspect these drillion premises with her, after work, at dawn, in lunch hours, at weekends for days and weeks on end until she finds somewhere?
How horrible. Is there anything worse than looking for a home, but I'm desperate to help, because I can't let my child go traipsing about the seedier parts of London all alone, and it has to be the seedier parts: gangland, slum tenement, red-light district, surrounded by crack-houses - because anywhere else will be too expensive. And who knows what sort of landlord/psychopath, wicked estate agent or other assorted crooks she might encounter in these hell holes?
Off we go to our first appointment. What a pleasant surprise! This is a darling little house in a quiet street, small sunny garden crammed with exotic plants, heavenly decor, original wooden floors, and there is the landlady's chum, a tasteful artist, on his knees, lovingly polishing the boards. And what a charming landlady! I trust her at once. I fall in love with this house. To my mind it is utterly perfect. Daughter must have it, our quest is over, and wasn't that easy?
No. It wasn't. Daughter was not satisfied with this little home. It was too far away from her chums/work/college and the living room was too small for parties. This is our big problem. If there's anything Daughter cannot abide, it is something her mother likes. But we must plod on. Another day, another viewing - a dump.
After a couple of weeks of searching, we're getting a bit fed up. First of all we have to fit the viewings in with both our timetables, then the big snag - we both have to agree on the choice of premises. I like a Victorian house, Daughter likes large, open plan, minimalist. I like safe areas, Daughter doesn't care, and anyway there aren't any. I am scared stiff of everwhere, Daughter is not scared of anywhere. Even Murder Mile. All her chums live there.
Only one thing makes Daughter nervous - having an embarrassing Mother around, so she gives me the brush off and goes searching alone. We're living on a knife edge, but luckily not for long. Soon Daughter rings in triumph, she's found the home of her dreams: a converted storehouse minutes from Murder Mile, but who cares because inside it's great for partying.
Grandma and I go along to inspect. We cannot fault it. It's not often that a mother and grandmother cannot find the teensiest fault with something if they try hard enough, but this time we have to admit. Daughter's choice is perfect. And she found it all by herself. I was no help at all.
I am redundant - almost. There's just that jumbo deposit, four weeks' rent in advance, a microwave, the sofa bed, half the kitchen utensils and crockery, a ton of basic food supplies and the dog at weekends...oh and the small telly from upstairs and the cheese grater....
漏Michele Hanson
