Wednesday, 31 March 2010

Go on, go on, blame me bad mother...

My God, the property owner's partner is a bully. A two bit bloody bully. I never want him in my house again.

I called the property owner because the electrics blew and it was quicker to sort it using her and not the housing association. She wanted to come round and have a look at the meter so I cancelled my plan to take my son out to dinner and for the first time ever as a single mum, got a take away. It never crosses my mind to do that but it will from now on; incase of an emergency.

The property owner goes on and on about the mess but Monday, well Monday it was a fucking joke what those two threw at me.

Admittedly, things didn't get off to a great start. I'm hurt ok, I'm disappointed they won't take my son and me as tenants while we wait for a Home.

"You know I want to upgrade the whole flat?" she said, quite casually.
"Yes, so you can get a professional working couple in who are more suitable but I'd check it out first because they're talking about knocking down the block."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" comes an angry male voice as her partner enters the room.
"They're talking of knocking the block down."
"What did you say?" he repeated.
"They're talking of knocking the block down."
"NO. What DID YOU SAY before that?"
"That she'll get a suitable professional couple in."
"Yes, that was a bit of a swipe," she interjected.
"How DARE you," he blasted.

I'm telling you, things only got worse...

All my fault, of course, of course, that the electrics blew. One extension lead has four sockets; for my telephone, my portable telly, my now bust dvd player and my little stereo.

"You've overloaded the system!" property owner cries. "You've totally overloaded it."

What do I know, the other bracket holds my computer plugs and the set top box. I was worried perhaps I had overloaded it so was mute.

The flat is cluttered, bit more than usual because I've had things on my mind, so there's alot of paper everywhere that have got into all kinds of nooks and crannies. She starts banging on about how dangerous it is, what a fire hazard it is: "I've told you many times before and this time I'm going to have to send you a written warning." She calls in her partner to have a look (for he's in the corridor, with my torch, looking at the meter).

"It's unbelievable! It's a disgrace!" he spits.

I try to say I haven't been coping but it falls on deaf ears.

My son was stamping his little foot on the ground saying: "Don't get angry!" as the man in the room gave his ten pennies worth.

Apparantly I can stay here until December; there's a clause between the council and the housing association enabling me to so, the property owner was told. She urges me to move into a 2 bed in the private sector, she was told I'd get extra points.

When I told her I'd get extra points in July, she wouldn't believe me so I ended up having to say "I know more about this situation than you do." So she says it's better for my son. I tell her I can't afford the rent. She tells me that doesn't matter, I can't here, what's the difference.

What's the difference? I want to go back to work. High rents, risk of rent arrears, wasn't that another reason she didn't want us as private tenants????

"You refused a flat from the council three years ago!"
"Because of a BICYCLE," he interjects.
"Let's not go back there," she says.
"I need my bicycle, you've got no idea about my life," answering him. I'm getting seriously frustrated now and my eyes are beginning to prick. Not here, I'm telling myself. Not here, not with them here, those beautiful tears I've been desperate for.
"Well you're just going to have to decide what's more important," chips in the owner. "Your bicycle or a secure home for your child."
"You know NOTHING about my life," I shout. "Nothing about the pressures I'm under."
"You can't always get what you want and it's a very dangerous fire hazard here. You stupid girl!"
"I may be a girl but I am not stupid," I roar. "He is a boy but he is not stupid."
"How DARE YOU speak to her like that," says bully boy.
"Enough now," says the property owner. Too fucking right. I did end up just crying though, tears plopping on my son's head. I was SO angry.

Oh God, I've not even told you that when my son asked if we could light the candle he'd made at school bully boy told him "no" because "the whole flat will go up in flames." Wanker.
As they leave, my son asks if we can light the candles I've gotten from my room and he can't resist it can he? He can't resist his little parting shot.
"You won't need a whole box of matches, just striking one should be enough to set the place on fire."
"You tell your partner," I say to the property owner, "that I do not appreciate his sarcasm."

And with that, they were gone and I let my tears run hot.

I didn't touch the pizza that got delivered but my neighbour saved me. She put my food in her freezer and gave me Al Cohol. Lovely, lovely Al Cohol.

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