Flatmates Stories
Discussion
As a supplement to the "contracting" thread. Since 2009, I've had every contract away from home and so for 4 nights a week, I just need.
a) Somewhere to sleep (single bed will do)
b) Somewhere to cook.
c) Somewhere to lock my push bike.
d) Access to a bathroom.
So I've utilised www.spareroom.nutter.co.uk a number of times.
I've shared a house with a paint spraying robotics technician, who owed £thousands on credit he'd run up ten years previously, who had a Japanese Fiancée.
We shared that house with a 17 year old greenkeeping apprentice who was on £3.50 an hour.
We both over catered and gave him planned leftovers.
Then I shared a house with an Italian contract Engineer, and a Year in Industry Student. One was OCD and one wasn't. The Italian moved out and Chinese bint moved in, declaring it to be a slum. She found an Indian engineer to take her contract over, and our electric bill went through the roof, as he had a fan heater on in the summer. Then The YIIS left and a Graduate moved in with an addiction to computer games. Then the indian moved out and a PHD student moved in with a addiction to formula 1. Then I moved to rent a room in a guys house, with bills inclusive (I couldn't be arsed with chasing them all for bills - NOT one ever checked or argued that they were wrong, and paid up with 24 hours) That was great until his Girlfriend moved in, because we socially she was "Jolly Hockeysticks" and I'm erm "Northern and a bit left wing" .
Anyway, Then I had a contract in Stoke and for one month only I rented a room off a 40 year old OCD religious extremist. Christianity gone wrong. The very first night he had a go at me, for a) cooking pizza direct on the shelf. b) not using the extractor fan when boiling the kettle c) not having slippers. (I had socks) d) going to the toilet in the middle of the night and flushing it. Later the following week he had a go at me for leaving my wet washing in MY bathroom over the weekend, moving my bed (5 inches), eating in the lounge, eating in my room, he had a go at the type of food I eat. Too much red meat and not enough nuts and berries. Then he started telling me about his beliefs. I upset him by pointing out that a proper Christian would invite the homeless to share his house (he had another spare room). He told about his problem with his previous tenant, who insisted on treating his house like her home, inviting her boyfriend around in the evening and disrespecting him (By this he meant, they were having sex in her room occasionally)
I forget all the little things I'd apparently done to disrespect him. like not polishing the bathroom tiles after I'd had a shower. Daring to waste water by having a bath. After 3 weeks I left.
Then there was a room I rented off a south African, and Finally Now I've been renting a room off a single 40 year old bloke, who would just like to meet a nice girl. He's a laugh, and very hospitable.
In about 4 weeks I start a contract in Derby, but I'm likely to rent a house (If I can't buy a flat cheap - I keep going back there so it would make sense maybe), and maybe sublet a room. I don't really have any furniture though.
a) Somewhere to sleep (single bed will do)
b) Somewhere to cook.
c) Somewhere to lock my push bike.
d) Access to a bathroom.
So I've utilised www.spareroom.nutter.co.uk a number of times.
I've shared a house with a paint spraying robotics technician, who owed £thousands on credit he'd run up ten years previously, who had a Japanese Fiancée.
We shared that house with a 17 year old greenkeeping apprentice who was on £3.50 an hour.
We both over catered and gave him planned leftovers.
Then I shared a house with an Italian contract Engineer, and a Year in Industry Student. One was OCD and one wasn't. The Italian moved out and Chinese bint moved in, declaring it to be a slum. She found an Indian engineer to take her contract over, and our electric bill went through the roof, as he had a fan heater on in the summer. Then The YIIS left and a Graduate moved in with an addiction to computer games. Then the indian moved out and a PHD student moved in with a addiction to formula 1. Then I moved to rent a room in a guys house, with bills inclusive (I couldn't be arsed with chasing them all for bills - NOT one ever checked or argued that they were wrong, and paid up with 24 hours) That was great until his Girlfriend moved in, because we socially she was "Jolly Hockeysticks" and I'm erm "Northern and a bit left wing" .
Anyway, Then I had a contract in Stoke and for one month only I rented a room off a 40 year old OCD religious extremist. Christianity gone wrong. The very first night he had a go at me, for a) cooking pizza direct on the shelf. b) not using the extractor fan when boiling the kettle c) not having slippers. (I had socks) d) going to the toilet in the middle of the night and flushing it. Later the following week he had a go at me for leaving my wet washing in MY bathroom over the weekend, moving my bed (5 inches), eating in the lounge, eating in my room, he had a go at the type of food I eat. Too much red meat and not enough nuts and berries. Then he started telling me about his beliefs. I upset him by pointing out that a proper Christian would invite the homeless to share his house (he had another spare room). He told about his problem with his previous tenant, who insisted on treating his house like her home, inviting her boyfriend around in the evening and disrespecting him (By this he meant, they were having sex in her room occasionally)
I forget all the little things I'd apparently done to disrespect him. like not polishing the bathroom tiles after I'd had a shower. Daring to waste water by having a bath. After 3 weeks I left.
Then there was a room I rented off a south African, and Finally Now I've been renting a room off a single 40 year old bloke, who would just like to meet a nice girl. He's a laugh, and very hospitable.
In about 4 weeks I start a contract in Derby, but I'm likely to rent a house (If I can't buy a flat cheap - I keep going back there so it would make sense maybe), and maybe sublet a room. I don't really have any furniture though.
I rented a house on Kearsley Road in Sheffield (just off London road) - One flatmate was from "Rhodesia" and always insisted on calling it that (this was before Bob went completely nuts...) but he wasn't the nut job
I got the ex-con psycho.
My landlady was an ignorant, useless West Indian woman - her roots and race do have a relevance.
One summer, I left and returned for the autumn term as I had planned to - My landlady had opted to "not get accreditation" from the Sheffield housing office and as a result she was "very sorry" - insert cackling laughter here (from her). Anyway - I didn't really understand the implications of this at the time and I really, really should have just left, there and then. But I couldn't be arsed to find somewhere else to live.
I had no housemates for a while and that was nice and suited me fine - However, I went home one weekend and came back to find "Mark"* in the house - I asked who he was (not a student) and how he came to be here. He said "I've just got out and your landlady is a family friend - And we west Indians stick together":
Me: Just got out of, er, where.
Psycho Nutjob: Lincoln
Me (naively): Lincoln where
PN: Prison
Me (s
t): Oh, right....
PN: For GBH and ABH but the deserved it
That was the other time I should have left.
Over the next month, my friends were really concerned for my safety as his behaviour became erratic and, in hindsight, worrying and clearly threatening. I used to go home at weekends too and always made sure the room was locked. And there were no spare keys left around. I had a very well built friend and Mark made a point of telling me that he'd quite happily knife him - This was just before the first incident.
I went home and came back to find Mark, sat calmly, in the sitting room and he told me that "there'd been a break in". Right. My room had been broken in to and my safe box had been nicked (there was nothing of value in it, but "he" didn't know that) - "They'd come through the window that he'd left open". Right. "They'd" left my very expensive Technics stereo and 15" TV. Break in. bks.
I called the police, but Mark insisted that "he didn't feel safe so he was going to go away for a couple of days - Oh, and don't bother calling them. Mate." Then I called the landlady who, after a couple of hours, called me back and said that she was moving him out, getting his stuff and changing the locks.
That was when I should have left. Left Sheffield.
For a month, I worried about what might happen, but nothing did - I thought nothing of it. Until one night, near Christmas, I went clubbing and got separated from my mates - And ran in to Mark. In the toilets. And the bouncer then stopped anyone else coming in. Within a few seconds, I was pinned against the wall, by my neck, by this psycho who blamed me for him being kicked out of this house and that I "owed him money" and to meet him, tomorrow with £200. I went to the pub the next day with the money, but he wasn't there - For reasons that I never understood, I never went to the police.
I did, however, leave that house the next day and stayed with my friend, rent free for about a month - I then rented a lecturer's attic room for about 6 months (thanks Phil) - I nearly dropped out of Uni that Christmas and I was an emotional wreck for quite a long time - The Uni was great and provided me with support which was invaluable.
I had, at the time, 2 close male and 2 close female friends - For reasons I don't know now, I opted to not tell the girls. Actually, I didn't tell one of the girls as her step dad was an ex DCI. In hindsight, I should have just told her.
I still hate being held by my neck and giving piggy backs to my kids is as much as I can tolerate.
I saw him once more about 9 months later, but I had some different housemates who knew the full story and were concerned for me when I pointed him out. One of my friends offered to have a work and he, Mike, probably would have too, as Mike was a bit of a stereotypical scouse nutcase himself, only tamed by his girlfriend Sarah.
Wow. That was therapeutic...
* His real name - Mark Madden was his full (claimed) name
I got the ex-con psycho.
My landlady was an ignorant, useless West Indian woman - her roots and race do have a relevance.
One summer, I left and returned for the autumn term as I had planned to - My landlady had opted to "not get accreditation" from the Sheffield housing office and as a result she was "very sorry" - insert cackling laughter here (from her). Anyway - I didn't really understand the implications of this at the time and I really, really should have just left, there and then. But I couldn't be arsed to find somewhere else to live.
I had no housemates for a while and that was nice and suited me fine - However, I went home one weekend and came back to find "Mark"* in the house - I asked who he was (not a student) and how he came to be here. He said "I've just got out and your landlady is a family friend - And we west Indians stick together":
Me: Just got out of, er, where.
Psycho Nutjob: Lincoln
Me (naively): Lincoln where
PN: Prison
Me (s
t): Oh, right....PN: For GBH and ABH but the
deserved itThat was the other time I should have left.
Over the next month, my friends were really concerned for my safety as his behaviour became erratic and, in hindsight, worrying and clearly threatening. I used to go home at weekends too and always made sure the room was locked. And there were no spare keys left around. I had a very well built friend and Mark made a point of telling me that he'd quite happily knife him - This was just before the first incident.
I went home and came back to find Mark, sat calmly, in the sitting room and he told me that "there'd been a break in". Right. My room had been broken in to and my safe box had been nicked (there was nothing of value in it, but "he" didn't know that) - "They'd come through the window that he'd left open". Right. "They'd" left my very expensive Technics stereo and 15" TV. Break in. b
ks.I called the police, but Mark insisted that "he didn't feel safe so he was going to go away for a couple of days - Oh, and don't bother calling them. Mate." Then I called the landlady who, after a couple of hours, called me back and said that she was moving him out, getting his stuff and changing the locks.
That was when I should have left. Left Sheffield.
For a month, I worried about what might happen, but nothing did - I thought nothing of it. Until one night, near Christmas, I went clubbing and got separated from my mates - And ran in to Mark. In the toilets. And the bouncer then stopped anyone else coming in. Within a few seconds, I was pinned against the wall, by my neck, by this psycho who blamed me for him being kicked out of this house and that I "owed him money" and to meet him, tomorrow with £200. I went to the pub the next day with the money, but he wasn't there - For reasons that I never understood, I never went to the police.
I did, however, leave that house the next day and stayed with my friend, rent free for about a month - I then rented a lecturer's attic room for about 6 months (thanks Phil) - I nearly dropped out of Uni that Christmas and I was an emotional wreck for quite a long time - The Uni was great and provided me with support which was invaluable.
I had, at the time, 2 close male and 2 close female friends - For reasons I don't know now, I opted to not tell the girls. Actually, I didn't tell one of the girls as her step dad was an ex DCI. In hindsight, I should have just told her.
I still hate being held by my neck and giving piggy backs to my kids is as much as I can tolerate.
I saw him once more about 9 months later, but I had some different housemates who knew the full story and were concerned for me when I pointed him out. One of my friends offered to have a work and he, Mike, probably would have too, as Mike was a bit of a stereotypical scouse nutcase himself, only tamed by his girlfriend Sarah.
Wow. That was therapeutic...
* His real name - Mark Madden was his full (claimed) name
Edited by james_tigerwoods on Monday 20th October 23:12
I once shared a house with a full on alcoholic - in his 50s, drinking himself to death, refused any help although bizarrely managed to hold down a full time job. Used to spend every evening in the pub until he could barely stand, stumble home then either piss in the sink or fall asleep on the sofa and piss his pants. On several occasions he took a dump on the stairs and tried to force his way into rooms that weren't his. The final straw came when he tried to cook a microwave meal but set it for 2 hours, starting a fire that nearly destroyed the kitchen whilst he slept obliviously. The landlady finally saw sense and booted him out.
No idea what happened to him after that, and being forced to live with it very quickly eroded any sympathy I had for his plight. Some people just don't want to be helped.
Also once lived with a couple who would ring eachother when one went to the kitchen, then ask what they were doing and if anyone else was there with them.
No idea what happened to him after that, and being forced to live with it very quickly eroded any sympathy I had for his plight. Some people just don't want to be helped.
Also once lived with a couple who would ring eachother when one went to the kitchen, then ask what they were doing and if anyone else was there with them.
I ended up living in a house with 5 other flatmates - the university just threw us together. Two were fine, very accommodating, cleaned up etc. and generally very nice people.
The other 3 were true innit types of Pakistani decent now residing in Leicester.... no joke. It was a disaster.
They always used to have people over till 6am and shouting and make the communal areas a fking tip, it was a terrible time.
One thing that their 'friends' liked to do was bang on the day to come in, by bang, I mean literally try and kick the door in, we had to have the locks replaced many times. One evening, things got out of hand and god only knows why, someone was trying to kick our door in with the our flatmates saying, go away - so I called the police and said someone was trying to break in - that certainly shock them up a little.
Things got worse throughout the year, one habit of theirs was to leave the main door to the flat open..... so I took it upon myself to bin all their belongings left out in the communal areas, it was hilarious. Seeing them searching for iPod docks, shisha pipes, clothes etc. they would ask me, have you seen our stuff?, me: No, did you lock the door on your way out?
The other 3 were true innit types of Pakistani decent now residing in Leicester.... no joke. It was a disaster.
They always used to have people over till 6am and shouting and make the communal areas a f
king tip, it was a terrible time. One thing that their 'friends' liked to do was bang on the day to come in, by bang, I mean literally try and kick the door in, we had to have the locks replaced many times. One evening, things got out of hand and god only knows why, someone was trying to kick our door in with the our flatmates saying, go away - so I called the police and said someone was trying to break in - that certainly shock them up a little.
Things got worse throughout the year, one habit of theirs was to leave the main door to the flat open..... so I took it upon myself to bin all their belongings left out in the communal areas, it was hilarious. Seeing them searching for iPod docks, shisha pipes, clothes etc. they would ask me, have you seen our stuff?, me: No, did you lock the door on your way out?
4 weeks from starting Uni, told I was in a house with three other people, all good. A week before I was starting and I get told the house I was in is no longer avaialble and the Uni are identifying alternative housing for us and I have an appointment so they can sort it out etc. Arrive at the Uni housing office to see three stunning 18 year olds and their parents, I put 1 and 3 together made four and assumed that these were my ex-housemates....... to be honest it was a lucky escape, I'm smart enough to know that there wouldnt have been any inter-house "action" and the sound of them at it for a year would have driven me crazy!... on the plus side, I met mrspablo a week or two later and the rest is history...
Very very glad that I've never had to share accommodation like this... even whilst at uni I shared a house with 5 girls who were pretty normal - perhap a bit messy but generally normal.
There's a great book on this topic called "He died with a Felafel in his hand" by an author called John Birmingham... very very funny tales of Australian house sharing.
There's a great book on this topic called "He died with a Felafel in his hand" by an author called John Birmingham... very very funny tales of Australian house sharing.
I've remembered another...
The house I moved in to (post the crap above and as mentioned "9 months later") was far better, 6 bedrooms (well, 5 and a box room), next door to a shop/post office (who used to give us out of date bread) and nicer, normal, house mates. Mostly.
4 of them knew each other (including my best friend Steve) and I got the big attic room (which was bloody awful in summer), come the start of term, there was an argument over my keeping the room but that's not relevant. This left the box room which was advertised out and Mike (mentioned earlier) took the room.
No-one knew Mike but I got to know him pretty well and he was a good guy - Three of the others (not Steve) didn't get on with him, but he didn't care. I'd like to add that I got on with everyone in the house...
There was a girl in the house, let's call her "Sally" Not her real name who I didn't meet to start with as I moved in at the beginning of summer and she worked that summer in Alton Towers - She used to call the house, for some reason, and she and I chatted fairly regularly about, well, nothing - it was rather sweet and we got on really well.
Anyway, at the end of summer and "Sally" and I met for the first time - Which is when it all went horribly wrong. For whatever reason, she and I fell out and argued. A lot. Proper screaming, slanging matches with slammed doors and pretty obscene language. To this day, I can't even remember why. The others stayed well out of the way and only intervened when it got particularly ugly as "Sally" had a real temper...
Mike didn't like her much either and "Sally" eventually got a boyfriend, who was best friends with Steve (and friends with the others in the house) - He and I, unsurprisingly, didn't get on, but he was an ignorant fker - to the point where he'd walk in the house (no knocking), look in the front room and if he saw me and/or Mike, he'd ignore me, say hi to everyone else and go and see "Sally". He never spoke to me (or Mike) and I did make a point of saying Hello, to be polite (and not to wind him up, of course).
Mike and I used to go out drinking a lot and, as a scouse fella, could drink a lot and often got in to trouble and I'd often cart him off - when I could stand that is. But one evening, he and I and my friend Mark and Steve were in Champs on Eccleshall road in Sheffield and I was a little bit tipsy (!) and was giving my opinion of the ignorant guy in that comedy way where you rant and rage about someone and, guess what, he was behind me. And my friends knew. Oh how they laughed (!). bds.
"Sally" married the ignorant tt mentioned earlier is still friends with Steve.
In hindsight, maybe in this case, I was the difficult flatmate - But I did cook and clean and never st in the fridge 
Oh, that's not the Mark Madden I'm referring to - I can't remember what he looks like, but he definitely didn't look like that.
The house I moved in to (post the crap above and as mentioned "9 months later") was far better, 6 bedrooms (well, 5 and a box room), next door to a shop/post office (who used to give us out of date bread) and nicer, normal, house mates. Mostly.
4 of them knew each other (including my best friend Steve) and I got the big attic room (which was bloody awful in summer), come the start of term, there was an argument over my keeping the room but that's not relevant. This left the box room which was advertised out and Mike (mentioned earlier) took the room.
No-one knew Mike but I got to know him pretty well and he was a good guy - Three of the others (not Steve) didn't get on with him, but he didn't care. I'd like to add that I got on with everyone in the house...
There was a girl in the house, let's call her "Sally" Not her real name who I didn't meet to start with as I moved in at the beginning of summer and she worked that summer in Alton Towers - She used to call the house, for some reason, and she and I chatted fairly regularly about, well, nothing - it was rather sweet and we got on really well.
Anyway, at the end of summer and "Sally" and I met for the first time - Which is when it all went horribly wrong. For whatever reason, she and I fell out and argued. A lot. Proper screaming, slanging matches with slammed doors and pretty obscene language. To this day, I can't even remember why. The others stayed well out of the way and only intervened when it got particularly ugly as "Sally" had a real temper...
Mike didn't like her much either and "Sally" eventually got a boyfriend, who was best friends with Steve (and friends with the others in the house) - He and I, unsurprisingly, didn't get on, but he was an ignorant f
ker - to the point where he'd walk in the house (no knocking), look in the front room and if he saw me and/or Mike, he'd ignore me, say hi to everyone else and go and see "Sally". He never spoke to me (or Mike) and I did make a point of saying Hello, to be polite (and not to wind him up, of course).Mike and I used to go out drinking a lot and, as a scouse fella, could drink a lot and often got in to trouble and I'd often cart him off - when I could stand that is. But one evening, he and I and my friend Mark and Steve were in Champs on Eccleshall road in Sheffield and I was a little bit tipsy (!) and was giving my opinion of the ignorant guy in that comedy way where you rant and rage about someone and, guess what, he was behind me. And my friends knew. Oh how they laughed (!). b
ds."Sally" married the ignorant t
t mentioned earlier is still friends with Steve.In hindsight, maybe in this case, I was the difficult flatmate - But I did cook and clean and never s
t in the fridge Oh, that's not the Mark Madden I'm referring to - I can't remember what he looks like, but he definitely didn't look like that.
Most of mine seem to relate to drugs, Scarborough isn't known as The Dam for nothing.
Whilst doing my Masters at Hull Uni's campus in the 'borough, I was sharing a big large house with four of my mates. It was good, we had loads of space and parties. However the loft was rented out to a non-student. The occupier of the loft was called Pete. Pete had over done it on Acid a few years earlier and spent time in a mental hospital. Now he had got his brain back together, he liked nothing better than a face full of speed and crap rave music till 6am every night. More so, when we had a party he and is mates would come down all speeded up and join in. He was harmless, just very annoying, we also quickly learnt where the cables supplying power to the loft where. The loud music would come on at 1am, and be off by 1.02am. Pete left sitting in the dark, wondering why we had power and he did not.
When we first arrived, the dodgey residents of the house across the road used to come in and out at all hours visiting Pete. The loft could only be accessed through the house. Untill the Police raided them one day and we never saw them again.
Whilst doing my Masters at Hull Uni's campus in the 'borough, I was sharing a big large house with four of my mates. It was good, we had loads of space and parties. However the loft was rented out to a non-student. The occupier of the loft was called Pete. Pete had over done it on Acid a few years earlier and spent time in a mental hospital. Now he had got his brain back together, he liked nothing better than a face full of speed and crap rave music till 6am every night. More so, when we had a party he and is mates would come down all speeded up and join in. He was harmless, just very annoying, we also quickly learnt where the cables supplying power to the loft where. The loud music would come on at 1am, and be off by 1.02am. Pete left sitting in the dark, wondering why we had power and he did not.
When we first arrived, the dodgey residents of the house across the road used to come in and out at all hours visiting Pete. The loft could only be accessed through the house. Untill the Police raided them one day and we never saw them again.
DMN said:
Most of mine seem to relate to drugs, Scarborough isn't known as The Dam for nothing.
Whilst doing my Masters at Hull Uni's campus in the 'borough, I was sharing a big large house with four of my mates. It was good, we had loads of space and parties. However the loft was rented out to a non-student. The occupier of the loft was called Pete. Pete had over done it on Acid a few years earlier and spent time in a mental hospital. Now he had got his brain back together, he liked nothing better than a face full of speed and crap rave music till 6am every night. More so, when we had a party he and is mates would come down all speeded up and join in. He was harmless, just very annoying, we also quickly learnt where the cables supplying power to the loft where. The loud music would come on at 1am, and be off by 1.02am. Pete left sitting in the dark, wondering why we had power and he did not.
When we first arrived, the dodgey residents of the house across the road used to come in and out at all hours visiting Pete. The loft could only be accessed through the house. Untill the Police raided them one day and we never saw them again.
I had a few similar experiences in Scarborough, wasn't a house on West Street by any chance?Whilst doing my Masters at Hull Uni's campus in the 'borough, I was sharing a big large house with four of my mates. It was good, we had loads of space and parties. However the loft was rented out to a non-student. The occupier of the loft was called Pete. Pete had over done it on Acid a few years earlier and spent time in a mental hospital. Now he had got his brain back together, he liked nothing better than a face full of speed and crap rave music till 6am every night. More so, when we had a party he and is mates would come down all speeded up and join in. He was harmless, just very annoying, we also quickly learnt where the cables supplying power to the loft where. The loud music would come on at 1am, and be off by 1.02am. Pete left sitting in the dark, wondering why we had power and he did not.
When we first arrived, the dodgey residents of the house across the road used to come in and out at all hours visiting Pete. The loft could only be accessed through the house. Untill the Police raided them one day and we never saw them again.
On the second year of my degree course in 1988 at Stafford I, along with my mate Martin, had left it far too late to secure any accomodation for the second year.
We ended up with my mum and dad bunging their old caravan on a caravan club CL out on the Newport Road
(here, to be precise - you can even see a caravan there now https://www.google.co.uk/maps/place/Stafford/@52.7...
)
We ended up there til November, but on the plus side it was £5 a week each!
We had a load of car batteries that we'd cart off to the barn and charge up in rotation for the lights, and we'd power the TV from the batteries in our cars. We had a moped that we would go to the pub in the little village of Bradley on.
Only downside was that the fact that there were cows over the fence, and cows cough just like people. I remember us huddled up in our bunks crapping oursleves that there were a load of coughing blokes outside that were going to come in and bum us.
And the worst thing of all was the Thetford Porta-potti chemical toilet that we'd have to cart off to empty. It was a crap (groan) job. I used to go home at weekend and I remember I'd leave, chortling on a Friday afternoon cos the bog would always be totally full to the brim, the little sliding door barely managing to slide shut over the meniscus of piss and liquefied poo
I don't know how the bd did it but I'd get back on Monday and the bog would be just the same. 
We ended up with my mum and dad bunging their old caravan on a caravan club CL out on the Newport Road
(here, to be precise - you can even see a caravan there now https://www.google.co.uk/maps/place/Stafford/@52.7...
)
We ended up there til November, but on the plus side it was £5 a week each!
We had a load of car batteries that we'd cart off to the barn and charge up in rotation for the lights, and we'd power the TV from the batteries in our cars. We had a moped that we would go to the pub in the little village of Bradley on.
Only downside was that the fact that there were cows over the fence, and cows cough just like people. I remember us huddled up in our bunks crapping oursleves that there were a load of coughing blokes outside that were going to come in and bum us.
And the worst thing of all was the Thetford Porta-potti chemical toilet that we'd have to cart off to empty. It was a crap (groan) job. I used to go home at weekend and I remember I'd leave, chortling on a Friday afternoon cos the bog would always be totally full to the brim, the little sliding door barely managing to slide shut over the meniscus of piss and liquefied poo
I don't know how the b
d did it but I'd get back on Monday and the bog would be just the same. Gassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff