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| Estate Life |  |
The tenant at the front desk was insistent; “I’ve been up all night because of a rat. I keep hearing it squeak, but I can’t find it.” The caretaker was despatched to assist. “It must be under the floorboards” said the tenant, helpfully. “Unlikely” says the caretaker “you’ve got concrete floors!” The search in the flat moved from room to room, the floor to the ceiling, and there was the offending “rodent” – a smoke alarm pinging with a dead battery!! “I feel so stupid “said the tenant, “you won’t tell anyone will you?” “Of course not” said the caretaker!!”
Bags of rubbish were being left at the bottom of the stairs of a block of flats. Despite repeated pleas to the residents to stop, the rubbish continued to appear. The housing officer did what all housing officers really enjoy doing and had a rummage through one of the bags looking for incriminating evidence. As a result he visited a particular address, “Mrs Smith,” he announced “you must stop dumping your rubbish at the bottom of the stairs.” “I can assure you,” said Mrs S “it was not me”. After a long and difficult argument she continued to insist she was not the culprit. “In that case”, said the housing officer, “I will be visiting all of your neighbours to ask them if they recognise the woman in these rather risqué photographs that I found in one of the bags”. Horrified Mrs S exclaimed “how did you get hold of those, they should never have been thrown away”.
During a campaign to install, for the first time, steel screens over the windows and doors of empty properties in a London borough, the company’s local manager noticed that the screens on a particular ground floor had been tampered with. He explained to the housing manager that it looked like someone was using a hacksaw blade to inch their way thorough the steel protection. “Shall I replace the screen?” asked the worker. “No” was the reply, “because we have received information that over the coming bank holiday week-end tickets are being sold for this flat to be used as a rave. So let’s monitor the progress of our hacksaw friend”. As the days passed during that week it became obvious that the blade was being used without protection as there were signs of blood on the edges where the steel screen was being attacked. On the day before the rave and just as a hacksaw attacker was nearly through and feeling victorious all the screens were replaced.
One of our plumbers was sent to carry our repairs in the loft space of a tenant’s home.
The female tenant was into "The wild west" theme events i.e. line dancing, fast drawing
cowboys and indians etc. Her bedroom was full of themed costumes and props.
Whist in the loft space the plumber misplaced his footing and fell through the plasterboard
ceiling. He landed on the female tenant’s bed covering all her costumes and props in dust and loft insulation (fortunately no injuries). Due to this accident I visited the scene. The tenant was not very happy at all the mess on her costumes etc. Seeing me in a suit she approached and began to complain. The only thing I could think of saying was “madam we knew you were into western themes so we sent you your very own cowboy plumber". Luckily she saw the funny side.
The electrician arrived at the door in response to an emergency call out for no electricity; the door was opened by a woman wearing nothing but underwear. What do you want she demanded? I am here to reconnect your electricity said the electrician, can I come in? Do you have to demanded the lady? Yes. Rather reluctantly she allowed him into the property. After resolving the problem at the fuse box he said he needed to go into each room, rather reluctantly the tenant agreed until they came to the final door. I need to go in there as well said the electrician and the door was opened to reveal a room with subdued lighting, a bed with black satin sheets and a man naked and handcuffed on it.
Many years ago when I was a young Housing Officer, I was eager to start and set up Resident Groups. Starting with our Estates I arranged meetings at local clubs to talk to tenants about a Residents’ Association, explain all about them, offer support and generally encourage residents to work with us. One of my first meetings with tenants was held at the local Allotment Club. Much to my surprise at least 75% of residents turned up. Following introductions etc, I quickly explained that we were not there to take repairs or deal with individual complaints or issues, but to talk about setting up a Tenants Association for the estate to work with Pierhead and explained the reasons for this.
It wasn’t long before things started to get a bit heated and despite my earlier request tenants started to complain about neighbours. One lady stood up and shouted “And another thing, I’m absolutely p***ed off with that bitch next door”. I was extremely shocked at this remark and immediately responded by saying, “Now Mrs.**** we do not want bad language at this meeting and that’s no way to talk about your neighbour, its extremely rude and we don’t want you to talk about other tenants like that in this forum!!” to which she replied “I wasn’t talking about my neighbour, I was talking about her dog!”
Lambeth having recently undertaken to re-organise its Housing Management Services and move to a more functional and responsive approach adopted the terminology "Reframing" for the project management of the change process. The process involved consultation across the board, including a number of tenant and residents meetings. At one presentation at a locals Area Housing Office, attended by Senior Managers, under AOB, a tenant, sat at the rear of the meeting hall, asked the following: " ...this reframing thing has been going on now for ages, tell me when is my block gonna have its windows done...we've been waiting years and always seem to be last on the list."
The bailiff knocked on the door of a south London flat to announce that today was eviction day. The door was opened by a young Australian carrying a pyrex dish containing a full English breakfast and wearing nothing but boxing shorts. “I am sorry sir,” said the bailiff, “its time to go”... “Oh strewth”, said the occupant, “can I just finish my breakfast?” “On the balcony sir, and only after the council has repossessed the flat”. At this point the occupant turned into the flat and shouted “Sheila, you’ll have to get up, it looks like that bastard we bought the keys from last night has turned us over”.
After gaining entry to an empty flat with the bailiff, the housing manager noticed that the flat had been left containing all furniture and fittings. As he began the inventory of the furniture the bailiff picked up the phone and asked if he could just call him Mum as the phone was still connected. It was sometime later that the manager realised that on this dark and cold November day the bailiff was enquiring of his dear old mum how she was coping with the heat. When the conversation ended, the bailiff confessed that his mother was actually in the Caribbean.
At a reception attended by the Queen a chief executive of a large housing association extended his hand to the monarch. “And what do you do?” she enquired. “I am chief executive of a housing association Ma’am”. “Oh” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “I know something about housing; I have got a few myself”.
A Council officer had been on the phone for some time being berated by a dissatisfied tenant. In the end he says to the tenant do you know who I am? And the tenant replies no, good says the officer, then bugger off and slams the phone down.
Many years ago I worked in a busy office for a large Council in the North-West. Our Chief Housing Officer, Keith, was one of the old school Chief Officers who were held in awe by their junior staff. One day he happened to walk through our office when the ‘phones were ringing non-stop. Keith kindly stopped and answered the ‘phone. He listened to the tenant’s complaint and then explained to her the reason why we couldn’t do what she was asking. The tenant wasn’t happy with the response and asked to speak to someone higher. Keith’s response was ‘my dear lady, there is no one higher’. Those were the days!
It was during the hurricane of 1987 that George the Caretaker received a phone call.
"I know it’s 2 am but I’ve locked myself out of my flat I’m with my next door neighbour who said you may be able to help." said a female voice. George struggled against the wind to go to the block on the other side of the estate and walked up the 4 floors to the balcony where the elderly female tenant was waiting. After some nifty work that any locksmith would have been proud of, he got the door open.
"Oh thank you for not making a noise” said the grateful tenant “because if you'd woken my husband he would have been furious!!!!"
As part of a major capital improvement plan for over 40 blocks of multi-storey flats I was particularly keen to improve the alarm system to the lifts in the blocks, which had previously relied on individual caretakers to respond to alarm calls. I took some satisfaction in linking all of the lifts into a central control system to ensure 24 hour cover and an immediate response in the case of emergencies.
On New Year’s Eve a group of 6 men and I woman had returned to one of the blocks to see in the New Year at one of their flats, bringing with them beers, bottles and takeaway pizza. I have a photograph of these 7 people, dressed casually, standing inside a lift, each with a fixed expression and eyes focused on the camera as if they were staring directly at someone (me!). For some reason the lift had failed – and so had the new alarm system.
Those people, which unfortunately included the Chair of the multi-storey residents committee, had spent the last hours of the old year and the first of the New Year’s Day stuck in the lift. That photograph has served to remind me never to take the implementation of any new policy for granted!
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It was a sweltering summer afternoon in South London and I (then a young housing management officer) had returned to the office to write up reports and bank the rent I'd collected. When I sat down at my desk there was a note on the blotter telling me to ring a Mrs C as a matter of urgency. Mrs C was an elderly and rather frail lady who was, nonetheless, notorious among the tenants of her estate and our housing staff for making, often frivolous, complaints about her neighbours.
I mentally groaned at having to listen to yet another tirade as I dialled the number.
"Hello Mrs C., its Mr X from the Housing Department here, what can I do for you?
A breathless and angry voice assaulted my ear drum.
" He's done it again."
"Who has done what, Mrs. C?" I asked patiently.
"Him next door - his penis is poking through the fence".
"Surely that's a matter for the Police." I suggested, but she would have none of it and demanded I call round immediately to witness the offence.
In view of the seriousness of the complaint (it seemed to me that I might be dealing with a serial sex offender) I thought I had better do what she asked so I climbed back into my stifling hot car (housing officers could not afford air conditioning in those days) and drove the few miles to Mrs C's house. She let me in and marched me straight to the back room and proclaimed triumphantly:
"There you are, look." I looked all along the fences on both sides of the garden. Although they were in need of repair with a number of gaps I could see nothing untoward and certainly there was no sign of a her neighbour or his private part.
"Where is Mr M. (the next door neighbour) then Mrs C? I asked.
"He's at work, of course."
"But I thought......." I struggled to understand how he could be guilty of such an offence when he wasn't even at home.
Fortunately for the sake of my embarrassment, Mrs C.didn't allow me to continue, but demanded to know what I was going to do about 'those' - pointing at a luxuriant bush of bright pink flowers. Not being an expert in horticulture the penny still did not drop.
"He did it last year, let his Peonies grow through the fence, I've told him, but he does nothing about it. I want you to write to him to get him to cut them back."
"Leave it with me" I promised, making my exit and just managing to avoid exploding with mirth.
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This letter was sent by a tenant who had problems with the floor in the rear lobby between the kitchen and bathroom. Her letter went like this;
"Dear Mr P, Could you please send a man out to look at the large crack in my back passage. Thank you".
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One of our tenants had caused a number of contractors to complain about the state and smell of her home, with a number refusing to go back. She wrote to us to say that she had woken up one morning with a rat sitting on her chest in bed, and it had disappeared through a gap in the skirting boards when she screamed. We tried a number of the contractors and none would oblige because of the previous problems. We had just updated our list of approved contractors and a new joiner appeared very keen to make an impression so we thought it would be an ideal opportunity to put his enthusiasm to the test. He duly attended and reported back that the job had been completed promptly with no problems. When his invoice came in the text of what he had done read as follows:
"For touching up hole in bedroom - £35.00.”
Our newly appointed housing manager decided to have a bit of fun and returned the invoice with a note saying "Anything to keep the tenants happy, but do you expect us to pay for it too?
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Following an emotional and confusing telephone call, I visited the house of an upset and timid tenant who wanted to tell me about strange noises from her neighbour’s house. Obviously embarrassed about such 'personal things, she stated that she was having trouble sleeping due to the nightly sexual moans and loud screams coming from her next door neighbour. She said that she even changed bedroom but still couldn’t get any respite. Even her granddaughter had been woken up and alarmed by the screams, but tenant, thinking on her feet, said that the lady next door had cut her finger. To this day the granddaughter asks if the next door neighbour's finger is better and even went to buy some plasters for her.
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We were called to investigate a report that one of our tenants was keeping a fully grown horse in their garden! When we visited, it was raining, and there was no sign of a horse in the garden.
We knocked on the door.
An elderly and scruffily dressed chap in Wellingtons greeted us with "How can I help you?"
"We have received a report, that you are keeping a horse in the garden..!" I said.
“Don’t be daft he said, not when the weather’s like this,"' He replied,
“We bring it into the lounge when it’s raining...!”
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We visited a resident in a block of flats to advise that our planned database showed them requiring a new kitchen and boiler.
“Oh, very well then” said the resident apparently quite surprised, but very grateful of this news. “I wasn't expecting one,” she said.
Following completion of the works - we returned to carry out a post inspection and satisfaction survey to be told;
“It is really nice and the boiler is very quiet and efficient” but she had decided to sell the flat now and move....!!
I looked at my colleague...we had fitted a kitchen and new boiler to an owner occupied flat.
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We got a call from a distressed relative of one of our elderly tenants. The son was concerned that he had been trying to ring his grandmother all night and morning and could not get hold of her. He knew she was in as she never really went out anywhere.
We said we would visit straight away. I went with the Housing Officer, and we took a locksmith and a police officer with us – just in case
We arrived at the 12th floor to find the door solidly locked. No amount of banging and shouting could wake anyone - so we took the decision to force entry. The door was particularly difficult to get open and the noise from the locksmith was quite loud. After about 15 mins we eventually got in.
We went into the bedroom and saw a very still lump in the bed. The tenant was lying there looking very peaceful.
As the Housing Officer in question had never had the experience of finding someone who had passed away before, the police officer suggested that he get a mirror and check to see if the lady was breathing - this he did.
As he leant over to put the mirror to the ladies nose, she awoke with a start and shouting "where am I ?!"
The Housing Officer went white and ran form the bedroom screaming - he got to the flat door screaming and hysterical - only to meet the ladie’s son who had just arrived.
Apparently, our tenant had fallen asleep after consuming 3 or 4 bottles of stout and her hearing aid had fallen out !!
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I was returning to the office from a visit. I had not worked there long. There was a dishevelled bloke leaning against the wall next to the entrance. As I passed he called out ‘Can you help me with my leg’ so I stopped and asked him what was wrong with his leg. He was clearly drunk.
He then unstrapped and handed me his false leg – which was very soiled and smelly – and hopped off down the road.
I took it into the office where the others said ‘I see Harry’s left his leg again. He gets drunk and it’s uncomfortable when he tries to walk. Don’t worry, he’ll be back for it in the morning.’
And he was, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
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