At 74, I missed

A third of worried older tenants, that their owner can suddenly ask them to leave their home within next year, according to vote On behalf of the beneficial organization, independent age. Some of these fears mean that older tenants are more likely to avoid concerns about insecure or inappropriate conditions instead of risking to be evicted. Susan, 74, a grandmother of Essex, tells ‘paper I’ about the fear and instability he felt when he was evicted

When I moved to what I thought I was going to be my home for the rest of my days more than a decade ago, I could not have anticipated that it was liquidated homeless At 74. Unfortunately, thanks to Rising rentA competitive housing market and lack of resources in me Local CouncilThere is exactly where I ended.

I left Dorset, where I rented a floor, so that Havering in Essex was closer to my daughter Emma and her newborn shortly after my other daughter, Vicky, who had a cleft lip and other health complications, died unexpectedly after a routine operation. For your jaw.

The floor was offered to me after an Emma’s friend had entered money and bought a property for rent. The understanding was that I would be there for the rest of my life, although this was not in writing.

Being close to my family after losing Vicky, so suddenly it was really important. My grandson filled the hole in my heart, and being close to my daughter, which helps me so much, was ideal. They became my future.

It meant a lot for me to be on that floor. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine and was in a small dead end with a green exit, where I often saw children play. I shared the floor with my Cat Charlie, whom I bought not long after moving. The floor was full of my interior and furniture plants that I had painted and recycled by hand. The rent had been quite reasonable: £ 625 per month, until it had been there for about ten years, when she raised the rent to the maximum limit that would pay the housing benefit: £ 900.

Then, last year, he concluded that being a owner He simply did not pay enough. She wrote me a letter informing me that I had decided to sell and was requesting a notice of section 21 (a satisfied legal notice when the owners want the tenants to move). It was devastating, because we had been in good terms during my time there, I didn’t see him coming.

I was desperate to stay in the area, but Property prices They were then by the roof. There was nothing I could pay, and even if I could have found something cheap enough to rent in private, no owner would face tenants with animals or housing benefits. People like me were so low in the list of desirable tenants that real estate agents would have nothing to do with me.

I had to resort to the Council through a local scheme called housing solutions. They insisted that he had to go to the point of Be evicted Through a sheriff who escorts me from the property before they offer me temporary accommodation. It was completely degrading. I had to put my furniture quickly and pack my cat in my daughter’s place. I couldn’t have moved with her at that time. He had already taken Charlie, and between having cancer and caring for his autistic son, he didn’t want to add more to his dish.

The social services made a housing needs report, but I had not climbed into the system, so they placed me in a shelter temporarily.

The day I moved last August was one of the most annoying experiences I have had. I knew that the shelter was not adequate from the moment they informed me that I would be living there. Before the date on the move, my daughter and I went to the shelter, a four -bedroom bungalow became eight beds, and we met with the manager so that he could see the room and prepare for what was to come. It was horrible. It smelled of wet. There was no access to a stove, just a microwave in the corner of the room and a shared bathroom that knew that I would have difficulty use because it was not accessible and I am old and disabled. I was waiting for hip replacement surgery at that time.

When I finally moved, what surprised me more was to have to register as a “person without a fixed abode.” It was the first time that I realized that it was what it was: homeless.

Between sharing communal spaces with seven other people and dealing with the hostile manager of the building, it was very, very scary.

Although the room had a window, the air quality inside was terrible. I have a chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, which causes respiratory difficulties, so it used to keep it open and execute a dehumidifier to slightly improve the humid atmosphere and Mohosa. It made little difference. At that time, they were expanding the shelter, which meant that there were noisy construction work just outside my room. The drilling noise was terrible. And every day the workers put the containers under my window, which worsened the room even more.

There was also a strong smell of some type of adhesive they had used to fix the door, which literally left me breathless. If I wanted to get some fresh air, I would have to go to the main door of the shelter.

Complaining only brought the manager’s hostility. I informed the problems to the Council, and from then on, I was not happy with me. Another resident, a mother who shared a room with her preteen son, also had some problems with him. Because none of the hostel occupants could have visitors, the child would play in the halls. Finally, the manager also closed it. I felt terribly pity for them.

Although visitors did not allow me either, I had no choice but to break the rules. There was no grip rails anywhere, so I could not have left the shelter if my daughter had not come as often as her and bring me the things she needed. I was also fed up with microwave meals. I am outdated and I like to cook from scratch, so that I could barely eat things. Fortunately, every two days, my daughter picked me up to go home and took care of me.

I supported those conditions for three months.

We tried to obtain a fair treatment of the council through emails and telephone calls, etc., but the communication was pending. They decided that they no longer wanted to know about me and rejected my calls. A Peabody man, an organization supported by the Hovering Council, tried to help, but then the fund cuts meant that his organization was reduced from 20 people to two. Disappeared after that.

My daughter felt desperate and finally asked the owner to reject me for being inappropriate instead of rejecting him. I ran the risk of being on the streets at that time. It was scary.

Without another option, I continued to press the Council to get answers. Three months later, after looking for independent age advice, they placed me in protected accommodation, which is where I should have been lodged first. He is a little closer to my daughter’s house than my old place, and fortunately, I love it here. There is a hall and communal events to meet their neighbors. I have continued painting and I have a small patio off the back door, which looks at the landscaped gardens. My daughter bought me a rattan chair for Christmas, so I can sit when it gets a bit.

If it weren’t for the help I received, I’m not sure where I would be now. When it comes to Private rentBeing old and disabled means that you are not a priority. Leaving the place I considered at home against my will was so exhausting and annoying after so many years of stability. I didn’t know what would happen to me, that’s why I’m so grateful to be in the position I am now. Unfortunately, not everyone is very lucky.