A tenant at Royal Terrace – preferring to remain anonymous – discusses living conditions there.
On the back of the release of the bone-chilling statistics that one in 64 are homeless in Hastings, it can seem a little churlish to complain about problems with any landlord. And throw in the pitiful availability of housing stock in the town, cuts in funding for homelessness support and the abolition of some supported living, then it seems almost unfair to speak up at all. But when it’s a landlord as large as Southern Housing, it’s pretty much public interest to speak up.
And this isn’t just about noisy neighbours or a leaking tap, rather it’s the entire process of being housed, the appropriateness of that housing and the lack of forethought and support once you become their tenant.
I am a relative newcomer to a Southern Housing property. On paper it’s sheltered accommodation with an age restriction. The rules were apparently bent for me on account of my longstanding health conditions, with the criteria of being over 55 waived, ‘especially’ for me. And so even before the first cardboard box had been carried into my flat, I’m reminded of just how lucky I am that I’m not living in one.
The fact that I had no choice in accepting the flat – to turn it down would render me intentionally homeless and therefore no longer eligible for council support – is never mentioned, and my ‘welcome’ meeting with the scheme manager stressed further just how fortuitous my situation was. I did not sense he would appreciate that the circumstances that led to me being homeless, the five years of variously sleeping on a beach, in a church, in a hostel, a Travelodge and a number of temporary accommodation properties, (interestingly all with disgraceful and blatantly corrupt landlords) only to find myself in – what will always be known in my mind as – an old people’s home, did not in fact make me feel blessed at all.
I hate the flat, I would never have chosen to live here, and although I’ve only been here a relatively short time and on the whole keep myself to myself, I’ve discovered that the majority of the residents I’ve spoken to feel the same.
I am one of their main reasons, or those like me. Apparently it all went downhill here when they started to ‘let the young ones in’. Aside from the novelty of being referred to in this way, I was taken aback at the genuine anger those who’d lived here – previously in relative contentment for upwards of ten years – were feeling.
On further discussion it became apparent that these residents believed that the ‘young ones’ had brought with them drug takers, unwanted guests and large dogs. Having had my time here blighted by someone banging on my door at 3am and on one occasion trying to get in, it would seem age has nothing to do with it. And the conclusion of this conversation, and in fact all like this, was that the true culprit and reason for decline was Southern Housing. Without security cameras, secured doors or concerned staff (and no night staff at all), the residents who’d been promised an added level of care originally, are now scared, unhappy and unable to leave. I count myself as one of them.
I have a long-term problem with my back, which makes lifting out of the question. I am six floors above the bins and four floors above the laundrette. Each load of washing takes three trips and due to the pain of carrying the laundry I must wash more frequently. There are four washing machines for 150+ flats. Three trips can easily turn into six while waiting for a free machine. I cannot use my oven as I’m unable to lift something hot and heavy from as low as the oven is positioned. In fairness this oven was a gift from Hastings Borough Council. Forgive me for not thanking them profusely for it.
I have PTSD which includes agoraphobia. People banging on my door and trying to get in is terrifying for me, though I defy anyone not to be alarmed by this relatively frequent occurrence.
The broken exterior door remained that way for four months, it still doesn’t close and lock automatically as it should. Some of the aforementioned drug takers have now taken to sleeping in the communal lounge. They are not residents, they’re unpaying guests, setting off the fire alarm with their crack pipes.
Talking of unpaying, unwelcome guests, you can’t say Southern Housing without thinking of bedbugs. At no time since I’ve lived here has the building been free of them, and the latest party line is that it’s the residents’ fault.
Apparently, and I quote, we ‘wait until our flats have thousands of them crawling up the walls before we report it’. I find that hard to believe. But if someone does have thousands of bedbugs crawling up their walls I would suggest they may need a bit more day-to-day support. The ‘it’s the residents fault’ line seems to run deep in Southern Housing. People are banging on my door because other residents are letting them in. Intruders are in the building because we don’t shut the doors properly. We’ll have to pay a higher service charge as people are littering (we pay for a cleaner), the library is closing because, wait for it, I kid you not, “people keep putting books in it.”
One thing I was promised and would have been a deal-breaker if I’d known the truth was a decent internet connection. Shopping online is vital for me. My internet speed is 0.02mb. I recently discovered the government offers grants for people with a connection lower than 10mb, the Universal Service Obligation. It would cost Southern Housing precisely nothing to ensure every resident of this building had a connection speed equivalent to the standard of 25 years ago, 10mb. Not great but 100% better than no speed. They said no. No explanation, just no.
I burst into tears when I was told I was moving here, and pretty much have continued to do so ever since. I feel both trapped and exposed, lonely and too close to others. Before moving in I told myself I would at least have support around me for my tougher days, physical and mental. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
The building was described to me once as a vertical village, and like any village there are gossips, disputes and of course an idiot or two. I’ve learnt about the unsuitability of this property the hard way, but both HBC and Southern Housing knew all this already. The argument that it accommodates my needs couldn’t be further from the truth. I am lonelier, less able to carry out basic chores, less empowered, and at times downright scared. I watched a woman being winched out of her flat window by the emergency services last week. I’m aware that had she been conscious she would no doubt have not enjoyed being gawked at by 100 or so residents. I wonder if she’d thought her life would be better here, her needs met when she signed her tenancy. This property isn’t suitable for me, and my presence is objected to by the long term residents.
One thing being street homeless and wrung through the never ending cycle of temporary accommodation teaches you is to be grateful. Overly grateful. Living in fear of ending back outside at one degree celsius means you’ll do anything to avoid upsetting your corrupt landlord – by asking for a bed for example, or a fridge, or not to let himself in to your ‘home’ with a key and without warning, (and oddly, more often than not while you’re in bed or the bath).
Those experiences were with a private landlord, albeit a landlord with an eye-watering number of properties in the town. Well versed in falsely claiming energy bills and inventing anti-social behaviour claims that served as grounds for immediate eviction.
But Southern Housing strikes me as the same wolf in different clothing. Every person who lives here has an additional need. They aren’t being met. My vulnerabilities, even my safety and happiness are put down as my fault or that of my neighbours. I have literally never once received any help, for any matter at all from the scheme managers or those above them. Extensive help and support is promised by Southern Housing in black and white on their website. It categorically doesn’t exist.
They are considered a bad joke here. I went directly to the bigger bosses regarding a death threat from one of the residents and the banging on the door. I was told they were aware of my vulnerability, which was both asserting it was ‘all in my head’ and a reason to say they would offer more support. That support never came. The biggest lie on the website is the purported sense of community. There isn’t any. It’s Southern Housing vs the tenants; and the tenants vs the tenants, as the rules have been bent and waived so the older residents no longer have the type of living they were used to; and the newer slightly younger inhabitants feel their resistance yet didn’t want to live here anyway.
There’s a rumour loudly circulating at the moment that tenants specifically with substance misuse issues are being moved in. I have to say it does look that way. Putting any vulnerable group into one building is never a good idea and if this is the case then it’s literally being done via the back door. It’s understandable why some would feel that their ‘forever’ home is no longer a place of safety. Even if it’s just a rumour, it’s spoken of so openly that Southern Housing should address it. Transparency, inclusion and options are the way for people to feel safe.
As we lose more prospects for homes perhaps a change in provision is inevitable. But it must be addressed in the public arena. We should look at the suitability of the homes provided and decisions should, if not jointly, at least be made openly.
To HBC and Southern Housing:, rather than spout that any homeless/vulnerable person housed is lucky and should be grateful, consider what journey that person has already been on, perhaps they need more not less? How helpful is it to blame those individuals for the situation they are in, and now the situation you’ve put them in? What if it was your elderly relative who couldn’t carry the rubbish out or wash their clothes? And the ultimate tell, with intruders, bedbugs and no support, would you live like that?
Every tenant has different needs and these should be addressed individually, but also with consideration for existing residents. Without this you face ghettoisation, bad feeling and an environment very far from the one Southern Housing declares it has created.