Home Sweet Home

Applying for social housing was fairly straightforward. I filled in the online application and was asked to come for an interview. The housing officer was very sympathetic and advised that she accepted us as "homeless" and would put us in the priority banding.

It was about 5 weeks before a letter came in the post with an offer of a 3 bedroom terraced house. On the worst street in town! 

Initially I was very upset, but after going down to the road and having a walk around - it wasn't that bad. There was a good school about a mile away and the bus stop was close-by.

So I decided to stay positive and start buying as much as I could whilst I was still in the refuge with no bills to pay. 

Our move date was delayed week after week and it became a running joke! Then eventually the housing association confirmed a date to view the property and hand over the keys. You don't get a chance to view before handover here and if you refuse a property without a very good reason, the council can discharge their duty to house you. 

So I arrived at the house on a Friday afternoon, by this stage about 7 months pregnant and with 3 small children in tow. 

The house was filthy.

Disgustingly filthy.

There were gripper rods everywhere just waiting to hurt someone's feet.

There was no hot water or heating as the gas had been capped. 

I signed the paperwork in tears and as soon as the housing officer left, I took the children back to the refuge.

In comparison to the house the refuge seemed like a palace! 

The refuge staff saw the state of the house and given I was heavily pregnant allowed me to stay there until Wednesday which gave me time to clean the place up.

The council were supposed to provide beds as part of their welfare scheme but they were out of stock. So after a week of sleeping on air beds the refuge offered to use their funds to get beds delivered by a furniture recycling charity. I gratefully accepted.