MY ELDEST daughter has just paid a deposit on a house to rent next year after she moves out of her university rooms.

The property looks lovely, but, I immediately asked her, “What is the landlord like?”

It is often the landlord’s rules and regulations that dictate whether tenants enjoy living in their home.

This week came the news of a landlord in Australia, dubbed the ‘world’s stingiest’, after installing a coin-operated toilet that prevents tenants from flushing unless they insert a dollar.

When challenged, the landlord claimed it was in support of a Government incentive to save water.

I haven’t had to endure anything that bad, but I’ve had my fair share of terrible landlords. In my first student home in London, the landlord would come in, unannounced, at all hours of the day and night. This was really unnerving, especially if you were alone in the house and he suddenly appeared.

The place was falling apart - the kitchen work surfaces were boards propped up at each end which sloped precariously, sending onions, apples and other round foods rolling off. It was so awful it was funny.

There were other problems too - the shower had no bottom lip to prevent water spilling out and seeping across the floor and under the door into the kitchen. Nowadays it would probably be passed off as a trendy ‘wet room’.

We repeatedly raised the issues but, the landlord, who spoke little English, would simply smile and nod his head. Nothing was ever done.

The next couple of houses I rented were great - we were left to our own devices and never saw the landlord.

But the next move, with my future husband, to a top floor flat in Islington, brought with it a formidable landlady, who also came in without warning.

We had only just moved in, when she came round and pointed to a microscopic hole in a wall - which we had not even seen - accusing us of making it and demanding money to pay for it to be filled.

We were sure she had fiddled with the gas meter, which guzzled money, and to which, bizzarely, she had a key to empty. She was furious when we reported this to the gas board, who immediately took over. The bills fell dramatically.

The shower, hastily constructed in the corner of the bedroom beside a huge window, was a death trap. My husband slipped one day and badly cut his hand. The breaking glass prompted neighbours to call the police and before I set off for the phone box two CID officers - part of a special operation to tackle soaring burglaries in the area - were hammering on the door. They kindly drove us to hospital. Needless to say, the landlady billed us for the glass.

She also used to remove things from the flat - we would come home to find a can opener or ladle missing and have to buy another.

As all tenants know, a decent landlord can be a godsend. Last year 17,000 tenants across the UK called the charity Shelter’s hotline for advice on landlord harassment. Problems included verbal abuse, threatening behaviour, having utilities cut off as intimidation and even burning and destruction of personal belongings.

I am sure my daughter and her friends will be okay. Nowadays many student homes, such as hers, are let and managed through estate agents. She will miss out on the squalor that used to typify student digs and on the legacy of amusing - but at the time horrific - stories to recount later in life.

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