Two Flights Cancelled & An Eviction

This is Watford County Court. You have been evicted from Harrow. Please leave the damp, grotty house.

I had a great September. Honest. I really enjoyed it – had some gorgeous tapas before I even went to Spain, a fun day out in London for my sister’s birthday, a fun and drunken work do, visits from the parents, watched Crazy For You in theatre, had one excellent roast dinner, a long walk in the gorgeous summer sunshine (wasn’t the weather great to start the month) and went to see the only politician I can stand nowadays, Rory Stewart, at the Barbican. One life (we assume) – living it (quite reasonably).

And this was all before I went on holiday to Spain.

Except British Airways didn’t want me to go to Spain.

We were on the Elizabeth line to Heathrow, and I checked our flight was on time. It was cancelled.

British Airways were predictably useless. One £10 voucher, and an offer of a flight 3 days later, via an overnight stay in Madrid. They still are useless – they’ve not offered to refund the flight, and are refusing to pay compensation we have the right to, as the flight was cancelled “due to adverse weather conditions”.

Free beer though…

Through A Thunderstorm

There was adverse weather forecast – indeed there were thunderstorms over France (and of course later on the best thunderstorm over London in years…storm shield intact). Which didn’t stop Ryanair flying us straight over one with an hour or so of turbulence – proper plane being thrown around kind of turbulence. Even cool as cucumber moi had sweaty palms.

How did Ryanair manage to fly a plane to Valencia that British Airways couldn’t? EasyJet and Vueling also managed to fly to Valencia from London around the same time.

People say “never again Ryanair”. I’m “never again British Airways”. At least short-haul. I guess given how abysmally the country is run, British Airways feels an appropriate name now.

The holiday was just what I needed. Except for the eviction notice that I received when on the train (would it be anywhere else?) to Valencia one morning. I’ll write nice stuff about the holiday later, but I’m in moan mode and a bit stressed, so I’ll crack on whilst reminding you that I really do enjoy life.

Seems like my landlord has been taken to court and bailiffs are coming round on 24th October. Which might work out fine as I’m supposedly buying a flat. But also it might not. Am I really going to complete in the next week?

The contract is ready for me to sign, I have the Report of Title which is even more lengthy than the whole of this blog, which I’ve been writing since around 2010.

Yet the building management company are refusing to complete the leaseholders deed of certificate, which is a new requirement brought in by the Building Safety Act 2022, which most management companies and solicitors, don’t really understand.

It is an impasse that my solicitors don’t know how to get around – perhaps the bank will agree to lend without the certificate (it is actually less risky for me/them as the certificate indemnifies the management company from future new regulatory things like cladding requirements), but perhaps they won’t. And if they won’t…then I guess it falls through. Sigh. Fucking Tories. And yes I can blame the Tories for their shitty legislation that people who work in law are unable to understand. It’s almost like the Tories hate anyone who doesn’t own a home.

Squeaky Bum Time

So I’ve booked storage with my old employers, Lovespace. Collection is circa £150, storage is £100 a month – or something like that, depending on how much I store.

They collect on 23rd October, I get evicted on 24th October.

Well…except I might not, as my landlord keeps assuring me that “he is sorting it”. As if it is a leaky tap that needs fixing, and not a warrant of possession from a court.

So I don’t know where I’m sleeping in…oooh…13 days time.

Of course, I can just go on holiday. Work are aware and supportive of the idea of me having short-notice holiday/unpaid leave (though this probably reduces my excuses for not stacking shelves 7 days a year for the “closer to customer” bullshit scheme). Flights to Malaga on 25th October are £15.00 with Ryanair. Airbnbs are available for £350 a week – which might sound a lot but I spent £300 this weekend on going out, which is perfectly normal.

Alternatively a friend has offered me his spare room, my sister has a sofa bed, my parents have a spare room – but that does mean Hull. And Spain has sunshine and stuff I like.

Alas – this is only a short-term solution. If the flat purchase drags on a month or longer, then that becomes problematic. There is only so long I’m allowed to live in Spain – cheers Tories. There is also only so long I can be on holiday/unpaid leave for. It would almost be easier if the sale fell through, as I could just rent somewhere for 6 months and start again.

And for those wondering why I don’t get an Airbnb in London – have you seen the short-term rental market in London? Lol. It would be £100 a night. Over a month…you do the maths.

Cancelled

The holiday was just what I needed. And then this happened on the way back:

Again, we found out on the metro on the way to the airport – and to be fair, we were both really reluctant to leave.

Unlike British Airways, Vueling were actually helpful. They put us up in a hotel (though it took some persuading for the hotel not to sleep me and my sister in the same double bed), gave us dinner and wine, and put us on a bus to and from the hotel. Alas, it did mean getting up at 330am.

And then it meant a flight to Paris, with a 4 hour layover, and then a flight to Gatwick.

Guess what happened when back in the UK? Yep, the tube station was closed. My sister got a bus to Pimlico – the bus broke down. I walked with my large suitcase, past Buckingham Palace, through the tourists, on a warm day to Green Park. Yuck.

The holiday was just what I needed. But the cancellations and eviction notice weren’t. Oh well, I might be back in Spain soon.