Time to move again... after only two months!

Update: The landlady didn't seem to care when I told her yesterday that I was handing in my termination notice. 'The gas people are coming in later this week.... I'm sorry if things are happening too slow for you....'. Which took me aback, because I was prepared for an arguement with her. But no, she wants me to deal with her son. I prefer to deal with her because I had signed my contract with her and not her son.

Anyway, I shall be moving to Fulham! Further away and even more expensive, but its going to be much much better.
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Original post:

You know that it is time to move when:

1) The Internet line, which was supposed to have been up 2 weeks ago, is still not functioning. And the landlady's son (who is in jointly in charge) takes 2 weeks to call up a technician. (This shows that there is lack of

2) The annual Corgi gas inspection failed. Twice. And the landlady did not inform us when we failed the first time; finding out required a neighbour sending a note informing us that he would be letting a second engineer in. And she lied to me when she said that there had never been a problem with the gas before (a previous person who lived there told me that there was no gas certificate for 2/3rds of a year last year!).

And she has no idea when the gas is going to be restored (the engineers cut the supply), which means cooking with a temporary hot plate, which is crap.

3) When you plug the heater into the socket and the fuse trips. Whoops. I remember that just my computer and several chargers were enough to trip the fuse (as I unpleasantly found out several times). So I remove all the electronic burdens and plug in the heater alone. The electricity trips.

Landlady: 'Well, there's the duvet, that should be enough'. I was flabbergasted. Who wouldn't be?

4) The place is falling apart. We were promised that the place would be cleaned and tidied when we moved in. There is still dust almost an inch thick at certain parts of the room. The bathroom and parts of the kitchen are uncleanable because several years worth of dirt and grime have fused to become part of the furniture.

The door handle of the living room broke a few days ago. The microwave is fucked. My chair's back keeps falling off. At least the sofas are comfortable.

5) The most major fuck up of all: when I came back home a few days ago, opened the door to the lounge, and to my shock, found an opened bed in the living room. And the landlady was lying down in the bed. What the fuck?

I pay my rent for use of my bedroom, the lounge, the kitchen, and the bathroom. I expect free access to the lounge and kitchen at all times, for obvious reasons. Our license agreement does make the provision for her to enter the flat when she wants to, but to our understanding that is for basic stuff like checking the mail, seeing if the flat is all right, and AT THE MOST maybe having a quick meal or something. NOT SLEEPING THERE. And for 6 nights this week! Fuck! Not to mention that she or her son or ex-husband never leave a note beforehand informing us that anyone of them would be coming.

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So there you have it. A psycho environment, a crazy landlady who lies and covers up, and basically don't give a shit about the flat and don't give a shit about crucial issues for the tenants. I much rather pay more rent, and stay further away as long as don't need to worry about the electricity getting cut off in the middle of the exams.

Its such a shame really, because its a great location with great potential. I mean, its at Sloane Street (or Knightsbridge, if you're not familiar), one of the most prestigious addresses in the world and London's designer central. But I don't quite care, no amount of prestige can make up for this mess. All I want is somewhere reliable and relatively convinient; somewhere I can go home and know for sure that I don't need to get stressed about anything untoward happening.