It is widely known that landlords are the bane of students lives and for anyone in rented accommodation they are equal to the wicked witch of the West. Unfortunately mine is no exception, although on first meeting I thought he would be.
A typical old man, he was kind and welcoming. With his curly white hair and bushy eyebrows, he was talkative and made us feel at ease. Regimented yet fair, I thoroughly believed he would be easy to get along with.
But since moving in to my flat in September, he has been a nightmare. The fairy tale image I was had held has been destroyed, replaced with a maleficent figure. His curly white hair and bushy eyebrows which were endearing before, now an image of regret and peril. Like caterpillars, they lie upon his face while his condescending voice booms. He barks his orders from afar, demanding payment when we had no WiFi, being the central reason for our WiFi-less pit and the demon who allowed us to freeze to death. Is this a Halloween transformation or a year long nightmare?
Mr Freeze left us with no heating. Our water came out hot but the radiators were non-existent. Living in a basement flat in Glasgow needs some heat and relying solely on a duvet and a few blankets isn’t going to cut it. Having told us to never fiddle or touch the boiler we tried to work out the riddle that was the radiators.The automatic thermostat on the wall was no use and we spent another night in the Arctic. So tonight, we took matters in to our own hands and just like Nemo touched the butt…
And hey presto, WE HAVE HEAT!
If we had listened to his advice we would have turned in to an ice sculpture over winter.
Now every time I see his name appear on my mobile screen, I shiver. “Can someone else answer it?” I plead, but both of my flatmates are reluctant to solve my predicament.
I answer and shout down the phone so that he will hear. If there is a moment of silence or pause in the conversation, he’ll ask if I’m still there. Yes. Yes I am.
But I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could hang up. His deafness (something I had overlooked before) has become the bane of our conversations.
His mannerisms and the lack of space he gives while he speaks are excruciating to deal with for a prolonged period of time. When I see him at the door I want to run and hide in my humble abode under the mountain of blankets. Like a chameleon, I wish I could blend in to my environment so my predator will pass by.
From the top of my lungs I scream:
“I’M A STUDENT, GET ME OUT OF HERE!”
P.S. Thank-you to my flatmate for this inspiration as well as The Daily Post for solidifying it.