£500 per month for a slum and that's considered a bargain!

I have begun searching for a place to live in recently. My temporary solution to having nowhere to live is coming to an end, after much more time has elapsed than I would have liked. It is utterly disgraceful to be living in your parents house closer to 30 years old than 20. Unfortunately, it is becoming increasingly common in the UK these days.

Last year I was forced to move back home after a few years away, a few beautiful years where the borders of my rest time between work wasn't confined to four relatively close walls. Since being back it seems that 80% of my disposable income, which is not that much really when you consider the ridiculously low wages, has been put aside for my impending move. Or so I had mistakenly thought.

It seems that was not nearly enough, or indeed would it be enough to support a half decent life when not living in a house once where the confines of my private space numbers no more than four walls. Previously, at university for example, that would have been acceptable. It is just what is done and, if were are being honest, forced communal areas took away a lot of the monotony of the day. This is not university. Having a space you can call your home, a space you can escape to after work, be alone without having to accommodate others, these are all required to relax from working hard in a stressful environment all bloody day. 

Alas, it seems that is a pipe dream in modern Britain. 

The housing crisis is well known. It is a huge and extremely important topic among the electorate. I may even go as far as to say it is the largest of the issues they choose to completely neglect, mostly because its effects are mostly deemed to be problems of the young. Although this is not strictly true. It is the problem of everyone but home owners and those lucky enough to be working and living in social housing. 

Yesterday I had a degree of optimism about moving back into my own home, albeit a rented one, it was an incredibly naive and uncharacteristic moment of ecstasy I was feeling. The preceding 12 months of saving was about to pay off. I would be a proper adult once more. The feeling lasted until about 30 seconds after my arrival. I am not a picky person, I don't want the world, all I am asking for is a warm house with a bit of space so I do not feel like my refuge from the world is a cell. For the maximum amount of money I can spend on rent I was not even expecting something to meet these expectations perfectly. What I was greeted with was a flat in an appalling state. There was plenty of evidence of damp in the flat that the owner had attempted  to cover up, a disintegrating kitchen with barely enough room to stand in, the bedroom was the smallest room I have ever seen that didn't contain shelves or a toilet, the carpet was terrible and definitely hiding something worrying going on underneath it. It was a dump.

I work in a prison in a department which aims to stop people dying whilst in custody, if one of the prisoners were living in those conditions they would be moved instantly for health reasons and because conditions that bad are only likely to make feelings of self harm worse. That's saying something when conditions in prisons in general are pretty dire for the offenders.

However, with the state of housing in this country, and the appalling wages I earn despite the job I am doing, I think I may have to take it.