madhatter's coffee.

Welcome to the rabbit's hole. A blog on pulp.


…peep… peep… Well, I think I’m more or less back to live. The past two months were a little bit stressful. But no worries, slowly but in time I’ll retell the adventurous story how a naive stranger in this city was robbed, thrown in the gutter and continued fighting with fierce adversaries to emerge as a new hero for a bunch of twelve-year old pupils.

Everything began… when I moved in. Moving into another city is always a risk. The main problem isn’t to find a home or new people to talk to, the problem is to find someone you trust.

I’m easily fooled.

When the innocent teacher moved into a flat with a bunch of Spaniards he made not just one mistake. He mistook the whole situation. Iris, the girl that inhabited the room before I moved in was smart and totally stupid in the same moment. I suppose she mistook the situation as well as I did – the difference between me and her was that she had criminal instinct.
Her error was to trust the Mexicans. And to think that a letting agency should be professional and costumer orientated. The agency’s name was Kingsford Estates Ltd. and the assumptions proved fatally wrong.

Kingford Estates is as far as I experienced professional in doing exactly one thing: sailing very, very close to the wind. But the fact that they did not even know that they had Mexican tenants before my flat-mates moved in really swept me of my feet. This small incident resulted in my flat-mates being accused of causing damage in the flat they weren’t responsible for.

But back to the beginning of this story… Once upon a time my flat-mates moved into a nice flat in Leith, offering a magnificent view to the castle and being hilariously cheap. They head heard about this flat from some Mexicans who wanted to move out and were looking for new tenants who would start a new contract for another twelve months. The landlords seemed to be more or less reasonable and further doubts were resolved by the already mentioned view.
After they moved in they realized the contract they signed had some handicaps. For smokers it can be a small problem to live inside a nonsmoking flat. And then there were all those small damages that the agency had promised to repair. Two months later the small damages were still there and had bred a few siblings. Three months later the flat still missed the repairs and also a hover plus a microwave.

This was the point when the plumbing in the bathroom exploded. I don’t know how it looked like, it was mid August and I was backpacking through Sweden. But if you ever lived in a house where you had your own private waterfall in the kitchen you probably get an idea of the situation. Well, the plumbing was fixed. The damages were… cladded.

So when I moved in everything looked more or less alright. And if you’re desperately looking for a flat you don’t care about a little hole behind the sink or some dark spots at the ceiling. And you definitely don’t ask, if they have a hover. Who for Christ’s sake doesn’t have a hover?
So I moved in, a naive newly-born subtenant, gave my money to Iris who moved out and my deposit as well, because she promised to change the names in the agency. Nice. Everything is settled. Let’s start to live again.

to be continued…



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This entry was posted on 10/12/2007 by in Edi., Stories..
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