23/09/2023
In 2001, I travelled to London and like many Aussies ended up, living in a hostel, sharing a room with 5 other people. Many of my travelling friends either lived at that hostel or in a rather crowed flat or house. Some of the best times of my life were as 21-year-old living in close quarters to so many different people. There were parties, snowball fights on the street, too much drinking, people who stole your food from the fridge, there was the South African doctor who freely wrote prescriptions to anyone with a sore toe, an elderly hippie Minister passing through who didn't hold back on lecturing us youngsters on the meaning of life, and many other 'characters' I would never had met if I had not lived in such odd circumstances. Today as a mum of two, I couldn't imagine living in that kind of madness but I learned so much about myself and the rest of the world. I came across this post and it appears I am not the only one who has gained a lot from such an experience.
To you this is just a house. But for me it represents an interesting time of my life. I lived here twice, two years apart. It’s a 4 bed house and there were 12 of us living here. You only locked the bathroom door for a number two. Number one or showering and the bathroom was open for others to use. The best way to describe it, was that it was a squat that we paid for. My bed (on both occasions) was the gap between the sofa and the wall in the living room. It was during a time of my life where I could have actually been homeless if it weren’t for places like this while I tried to further my photography career.
I lived out of a suitcase and moved from one chaotic house to another, anywhere that offered cheap rent (£30 a week for the gap behind the sofa) Why waste money on a proper house I thought. Was it tough? Not really. I had a dream to become an incredible world renowned travel photographer and I’d soon be travelling the world and not need a base.
This never happened in the end because I lost my way. This was partly due to the fact that I eventually got the secure flat which was more expensive. I then landed up doing photography jobs I hated just to pay for that flat. And so the downhill spiral into misery began. So anyway. As I drove into London today, past Brent Cross, I thought I should pop past this old place. Looks like it’s not a squat anymore which is a shame. I actually had fun there with the 11 other wondering wanderers.
