My dear Family & Friends
We had more shit from the landlord’s family this week. Some background first: our landlord is Rajvinder. She and her older brother, Dal, inherited around 50 properties from their father when he died two years ago. All the properties are mortgaged to the hilt. The entire portfolio was managed by Dal, or should I rather say mismanaged. Now it appears that 1) the rentals are not covering the mortgage payments on many of the properties and, 2) Dal has been using some of the money for living expenses. The result is that the family has fallen into arrears (given the credit crisis), and the banks and mortgage companies have begun repossessing a number of the properties.
Now Rajvinder, a doctor, has removed the management of the properties that were in her name from her brother. The house we live in (which was the family home years ago) is in her name. The house that Dal (her brother) has been living in is also in her name. She gave him the use of the house on condition that he paid the mortgage. He hasn’t been paying the mortgage and the house is being repossessed in two days time. So Dal, ostensibly, doesn’t have a place to live.
This then brings us to the SMS text message I received from Dal at 10PM on Thursday evening: "Llelwyn (sic), i will have to give a months notice for you to vacate the property from today as due to the credit crunch and properties being repossed and dont want to leave you homeless. We have lost over a million pounds. Sorry about this but noone for saw the credit crunch. Sorry again. Dal"
I immediately sent an email to Hipesh (Rajvinder’s new property manager) and Hurjit (the estate agent through whom we rented the property) requesting an explanation and clarification of our rights and obligations under the year-long lease we signed in March. Hurjit confirmed that we have a legal and binding lease, and Hipesh told me to tell Dal to “fuck off”. I didn’t tell him to fuck off, no matter how much I was really tempted to do so, but I did respond by text message that I would no longer be accepting any correspondence from him with regard to the house we live in.
He then sent me a text message saying that his sister would send me written notice to vacate the property, and followed it up with an email indicating the legal grounds on which she would do so. It would appear under British law: “Mandatory Grounds for Possession: Ground 1 - This ground can be used where a landlord (or his spouse) has occupied the dwelling as his only or principle home at some time, and having given notice of his intention to return, now wishes to do so. Successors in title may also use this ground provided they did not purchase the dwelling.” (But he would still have to give us a minimum of two months notice on these grounds.)
I then phoned Hipesh again for an explanation and confirmation that Rajvinder would abide by the lease. He stated categorically that Dal had never held title to the property we live in, that he had no right or standing to require us to vacate the property, and that his client (Rajvinder) had no intention of resiling from the contract. I then phone Dal and, while I didn’t tell him to fuck off as I so desperately wanted to, I told him that any further harassment from him would cause us to bring legal action against him. Five minutes later he backed down with the following text message: “Just spoke to raji and she said if you are not willing to vacate you may stay on.” I still didn’t tell him to fuck off. I didn’t say anything.
And that’s where it stands. I hope that’s the last bit of grief from the landlord or her family for the time being.
In other events this week, I cooked an inedible dinner for Lucia this week for only the second time since I’ve known her. I bought a discounted “wild mallard duck” for only £3,50 at Waitrose. I suppose the word “wild” should have given it away; I’ve never really liked the taste of game. I didn’t like the smell when I opened the packaging, but I cooked it anyway hoping that hour in the oven would make it smell better. It didn’t. I still cut off a small piece to taste it, and began retching immediately. I wrapped it in five layers of plastic carrier bags (to make sure the pungent aroma never escaped again), and threw it in the dustbin. We had cheese and crackers for dinner.
The first inedible dinner I cooked for Lucia was shortly after we met way back in 2001. I was cooking a Chinese stirfry dish which called for “cracked” black pepper. I wrapped a tablespoon of pepper corns in a dishcloth and then smacked the hell out of them with a hammer on a bread board. I then tossed the lot into the dish. I remember Lucia asking me if we really needed that much pepper, but I assured with great bravura that I knew what I was doing. It doesn’t take a tarot cards to work out that the meal was inedible. I’ve never used a hammer on anything that I’ve cooked since then.
Our weekend was quite busy. We went to dinner on Saturday evening with a colleague of Lucia’s who used to work with her many years ago in South Africa, and on Sunday we went to Peterborough for lunch with Andreas and Michelle. Their daughter (my goddaughter), Natasha, kept us entertained changing clothes from her ballet costume through to something that looked like a wedding dress. Oscar, their six month old Tibetan Terrier, joined in the fun chasing her around the kitchen. Oscar is growing up to be a really cool dog; he’s a ball of fun, but he’s also obedient.
Let me leave it there for another week
Love, light & peace
Llewellyn
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/llewellynijones
We had more shit from the landlord’s family this week. Some background first: our landlord is Rajvinder. She and her older brother, Dal, inherited around 50 properties from their father when he died two years ago. All the properties are mortgaged to the hilt. The entire portfolio was managed by Dal, or should I rather say mismanaged. Now it appears that 1) the rentals are not covering the mortgage payments on many of the properties and, 2) Dal has been using some of the money for living expenses. The result is that the family has fallen into arrears (given the credit crisis), and the banks and mortgage companies have begun repossessing a number of the properties.
Now Rajvinder, a doctor, has removed the management of the properties that were in her name from her brother. The house we live in (which was the family home years ago) is in her name. The house that Dal (her brother) has been living in is also in her name. She gave him the use of the house on condition that he paid the mortgage. He hasn’t been paying the mortgage and the house is being repossessed in two days time. So Dal, ostensibly, doesn’t have a place to live.
This then brings us to the SMS text message I received from Dal at 10PM on Thursday evening: "Llelwyn (sic), i will have to give a months notice for you to vacate the property from today as due to the credit crunch and properties being repossed and dont want to leave you homeless. We have lost over a million pounds. Sorry about this but noone for saw the credit crunch. Sorry again. Dal"
I immediately sent an email to Hipesh (Rajvinder’s new property manager) and Hurjit (the estate agent through whom we rented the property) requesting an explanation and clarification of our rights and obligations under the year-long lease we signed in March. Hurjit confirmed that we have a legal and binding lease, and Hipesh told me to tell Dal to “fuck off”. I didn’t tell him to fuck off, no matter how much I was really tempted to do so, but I did respond by text message that I would no longer be accepting any correspondence from him with regard to the house we live in.
He then sent me a text message saying that his sister would send me written notice to vacate the property, and followed it up with an email indicating the legal grounds on which she would do so. It would appear under British law: “Mandatory Grounds for Possession: Ground 1 - This ground can be used where a landlord (or his spouse) has occupied the dwelling as his only or principle home at some time, and having given notice of his intention to return, now wishes to do so. Successors in title may also use this ground provided they did not purchase the dwelling.” (But he would still have to give us a minimum of two months notice on these grounds.)
I then phoned Hipesh again for an explanation and confirmation that Rajvinder would abide by the lease. He stated categorically that Dal had never held title to the property we live in, that he had no right or standing to require us to vacate the property, and that his client (Rajvinder) had no intention of resiling from the contract. I then phone Dal and, while I didn’t tell him to fuck off as I so desperately wanted to, I told him that any further harassment from him would cause us to bring legal action against him. Five minutes later he backed down with the following text message: “Just spoke to raji and she said if you are not willing to vacate you may stay on.” I still didn’t tell him to fuck off. I didn’t say anything.
And that’s where it stands. I hope that’s the last bit of grief from the landlord or her family for the time being.
In other events this week, I cooked an inedible dinner for Lucia this week for only the second time since I’ve known her. I bought a discounted “wild mallard duck” for only £3,50 at Waitrose. I suppose the word “wild” should have given it away; I’ve never really liked the taste of game. I didn’t like the smell when I opened the packaging, but I cooked it anyway hoping that hour in the oven would make it smell better. It didn’t. I still cut off a small piece to taste it, and began retching immediately. I wrapped it in five layers of plastic carrier bags (to make sure the pungent aroma never escaped again), and threw it in the dustbin. We had cheese and crackers for dinner.
The first inedible dinner I cooked for Lucia was shortly after we met way back in 2001. I was cooking a Chinese stirfry dish which called for “cracked” black pepper. I wrapped a tablespoon of pepper corns in a dishcloth and then smacked the hell out of them with a hammer on a bread board. I then tossed the lot into the dish. I remember Lucia asking me if we really needed that much pepper, but I assured with great bravura that I knew what I was doing. It doesn’t take a tarot cards to work out that the meal was inedible. I’ve never used a hammer on anything that I’ve cooked since then.
Our weekend was quite busy. We went to dinner on Saturday evening with a colleague of Lucia’s who used to work with her many years ago in South Africa, and on Sunday we went to Peterborough for lunch with Andreas and Michelle. Their daughter (my goddaughter), Natasha, kept us entertained changing clothes from her ballet costume through to something that looked like a wedding dress. Oscar, their six month old Tibetan Terrier, joined in the fun chasing her around the kitchen. Oscar is growing up to be a really cool dog; he’s a ball of fun, but he’s also obedient.
Let me leave it there for another week
Love, light & peace
Llewellyn
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/llewellynijones
