I nearly died of shock when I came home from work the other day and found my front door wide open. I tiptoed up to the door, half expecting to see a scary burglar or bailiff (same thing – different name) going through my personal belongings. Instead I found the flat full of six (!) smelly guys busy doing god-knows-what.

I asked them what they were doing in my home, and they told me my landlord had sent them to carry out some health- and safety improvements ordered by the council. Apparently, international law doesn’t apply to UK landlords, so he saw no reason to inform me that my home would be invaded while I was at work.

A week later my home is in a mess. They have changed all the doors, installed a fire alarm, put some silicone in the bathroom and in my kitchen, and painted some bits they felt like painting. Seriously, I could have done this myself over a weekend! It would have saved me sleepless nights, knowing that I have to be up and fully dressed before the smelly troops arrive and let themselves in.

The other day I had one of those rare precious moments when I get to speak to my Man. I took the opportunity to complain about the situation, thinking that he would feel sorry for me and have a few words of comfort to offer in my moment of despair. Instead all he said was: Six guys? Lucky them!!

Some days I wonder what I see in him…

//Evalena

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