Notice Day

That Day: Tuesday

We’ve just been served Notice.

A Section 21, or “no fault” Notice Requiring Possession to be precise, and for the first time in a very long time, I suddenly feel not only sad – truly, deeply, sad – but vulnerable – really, worryingly, vulnerable. 

A year ago, we had no intention of moving, or not at any time soon anyway. It was a thing I talked about in those vague terms of “the future” with my then relatively new partner. My girls and I had lived alone in our rented terraced house for, well, for them, all their lives, and for me, nearly 11 years. And prior to that, other than a brief blip during the messy separation from their Dad, I’d lived in my own home with my now grown-up boy for exactly 10 years.

And yet, 11 months ago, an opportunity presented itself for what looked like our previously unthought of ‘dream home’, and one that would mark the beginning of a new chapter with the new love of my life. Without fully expecting it to become a reality, we boldly viewed a quirky, dated, run-down, uniquely wonderful, remote but easily-accessible rural property in a location I already knew reasonably well, and that started the sequence of events that led to us finally (electronically) signing on the dotted line and getting the keys to our current home at the end of September 2024. That was nine and a half months ago, and in that way that time does, it seems both a very short time ago and a distant memory of a previous life.

We were told, categorically, that this would be a very long-term let if we wanted it to be, and we made it clear that we did. As we sat at the top of the garden with the friendly letting agent, marvelling in the scope of the view and the potential for a life not-yet-imagined, watching my two socially-traumatised children play outside, together, for the first time in ages, I knew we had to have this place. But, I made it clear that I was not uprooting them, and going through the traumatic and energy-intense and financially-costly experience of moving and all that that entails, for anything less than a very special thing indeed, to our forever* home. (*There is a slight but important caveat to this, in that one thing that made the location so remote, so appealing to us as a neurodivergent family, would also eventually be its downfall: coastal erosion. We knew this was a time-limited property, but we also knew there was enough time – pending disasters – for us to grow very old and my children to grow-up and old too.) It was the place we saw ourselves not just living in, but flourishing in.

I’m 51 now, apparently (no, really? Yes, I’ve done the maths). I’ve lived in a variety of tenures in my life. I’ve rented before, though only twice as a private tenant, and up until now, I’ve never been served Notice. (Actually, that’s not entirely true; my previous agency did serve Notice for rent arrears when I had to give up work, but in full and frank discussion with me at the time as a means to encourage the then very backlogged Housing Benefit system to bump my case up the priority list, which sadly, was a common and necessary tactic.) This Notice has been done with no warning, no explanation. And that’s what hurts; there’s technically no challenge to this sort of Notice, no requirement for any explanation, not even a covering letter, just procedural correctness. I know, I used to be a Housing Officer and used to serve them at times – although never without warning and explanation – and I always hated them. In those cases, they were used as “no evidence” notices rather than “no fault” notices; there was always a problem but they were the easier, quicker, and cheaper way for them to be dealt with by the relevant social landlord. I was always uncomfortable with them. To me, with my strong sense of social justice, of right and wrong, they felt like a cowardly, lazy way to deal with a problem, and move it on, rather than addressing it and maybe even resolving it. In addition, as a social landlord, there was a higher standard of integrity and moral obligation attached to every potential eviction, meaning that even where it was perfectly legal and practical to use these Notices, we would still demonstrate what we had done to try to avoid this course of action and provide support and advice along the way for the tenants whose homes we were taking away and lives we were altering.

In our case, as in many tens of thousands of cases¹, we’ve been served with a Notice Requiring Possession of our home for no reason, at least, no given reason. We’ve been good tenants: we’ve paid the rent 6 months in advance as requested at the beginning and again at the 6 month renewal stage. (Thank you to my partner, who was able to do this and allow me to pay him back monthly after he had to move out, but continues to fully support us in living here in a myriad of practical and emotional ways. That’s another post for another day.) We’ve reported all repairs and maintenance issues in a timely manner. In fact, that, most likely, is where the issue lies: we’ve reported a lot of repairs and maintenance because there have been a lot to report or chase-up, including things said to us at viewings, way before we’d even signed our tenancy agreement, as being “in hand”. 

At times, communication with the letting agent has been let’s say ‘testing’, but throughout it all we’ve tried – really tried – to maintain good relations and have had a good rapport with all the contractors we’ve had on-site, some of whom we’ve got to know very well, despite some issues regarding their access arrangements (usually that they initially access without arrangement, an issue I’ve flagged up more than once especially given the extra vulnerability of my children). We’ve always given thanks and positive feedback about all completed repairs and maintenance work, both directly to the contractors and by email to the agency. We’ve never been blasé about our position, understanding that we had a vulnerability and knowing that technically, our tenancy could be ended at the end of our fixed term without much we could do about it, and so actually haven’t raised complaints about all the things we could have done. We knew – and had been told – that we needed to limit the number of repairs we “requested”, and carried out what we could ourselves, or learned to live with certain things like windows not opening and closing as they should or, as I sit here typing this, being mindful that the one closest to me is wedged open with a pebble whilst held on the frame with two strong elastic bands around the handle mechanism. (Often the wind here is too gusty to allow this window to be opened at all for risk of the whole thing blowing in and hitting us, but today is a good day, and I can have airflow.) But, I am also mindful that some jobs are much better and simpler carried out during the summer months, when we have a chance of warmer, drier conditions, like the window mechanisms, and the heavily-leaking garage roof, and so I have at times asked again when they are likely to be done. More recently, I’ve backed-off, able as the summer unfolds to wait a little while longer and quite frankly, wanting to get on with my own life rather than spending time chasing-up other people’s jobs.

Alongside this balancing act of needing to report things but trying hard not to rock the boat, we’ve frequently asked ourselves why we’re having to do this. Are we really in such a precarious position as private tenants that we have to “put up or shut up”? Why would an absent, outright owner choose to not to keep a tenancy going long-term, to earn the regular, not-insignificant, fixed income for a property they reportedly claimed to love, knowing too that we tenants were doing our utmost to keep everything not just running smoothly – literally including the drains I have to add – but even significantly improving it (with consent of course)? It was a no-brainer. Of course they would want to keep their long-term tenants in situ. They would know, or at least be advised, that some of the expenses being faced now were the result of years of not investing time and money in the place, things that had been unfortunately left to get to a stage where they were more costly to repair or replace – “a stitch in time, saves nine” comes to mind – and/or were ‘front-loaded’, in that they were worthwhile investments now in order to keep the property viable and even desirable for rental and thus income – there’s that stitch again. Properties like this do require a lot of maintenance, a responsibility shared by both the landlords and tenants in partnership. At least, that’s how it should be and how I saw it, and, though it shouldn’t need mentioning, how the law sees it in the terms of our tenancy agreements.

Yet here we are, having weighed all these thoughts and actions up over the last nine months, having survived what is a harsh winter in these types of property but feeling bravely ready to face another, better prepared, and wanting now, finally, to reap the rewards and enjoy some of the less-wild and windy summer days in and around the garden we know we are supremely lucky to have, we have been stopped in our tracks with a Notice Requiring Possession in just over two months. We have new weights and worries to fill our every-waking – and probably sleeping – moments. We have guilt about the decision to move and the consequences of our actions, the foolishness of thinking we might just have a chance of a life only previously seen on the telly, and knowing that I now have to take this all away from my girls, and from myself. 

I don’t know how things will pan out yet, and my all-seeing brain has already poked around at various scenarios, trying to make the best in whichever one might come about, trying to stay positive, but ultimately, holding back or giving in to tears almost constantly. How can we have gone through so much already, in getting here, and being here, to just be thrown out like mouldy bread? How can we be plucked from our home, that we’ve come to love so deeply despite its many flaws, and our little community of neighbours and passers-by, without even so much as a reason? How can this vital peace and solitude, that is proving so valuable to both my girls’ and to my mental health and recovery, be torn away from us? We haven’t even fully benefited from it yet, as we need time. My girls, my beautiful, struggling, neurodivergent girls need time to be nurtured, feel safe, and to grow, and like the seeds I sowed a few months ago, they are just beginning to slowly trust their roots and open their leaves to the sunshine. I thought we had so much more time, and it hurts like a wave of grief.

That’s the sadness, the truly deep sadness. And the vulnerability? All intertwined. How can I find us anything like this, or even anything at all, as a non-earning, full-time carer? I have no savings now, no imminent income potential, and on paper, am literally, worthless.

¹NRLA cites that 32,287 Section 21 notices were filed at court in 2024. These are likely a drop in the ocean of the actual number of S21 notices served.