Landlord of the Flies

I'm fuming!

(If this was Sara's blog there'd be a pic of me fuming here.)

Our landlord, who forced us to leave this flat 8 months early, because he's a bastard, promised us compensation. This wouldn't have made us rich by any means but it would have helped chip away at the edifice of our debts. So, today, after endless calls and emails he finally turned up - on his scooter - with our deposit in a brown paper envelope. Loads of £50 notes. Nice. "There's *insert amount of depost here*," he said.

'What about the compensation."

"Oh, I forgot my cheque book."

Aaargh!

He has, though, agreed to sell us his rubbishy second-hand telly, bought in a special landlord's shop, for £50. £50! It might actually be a collector's piece, though, because it's made by Nokia. Who knew that Nokia made TVs?

Anyway, like I said, I'm fuming and am thinking of selling our keys to Dave and inviting him and his wife to move in and squat.

I just might do it.