“Why the lifting of the eviction ban has me terrified”

Every Londoner knows you make compromises when renting a flat. You assess whether you’re happy to walk that bit further from the station every day if the flat has adequate cupboards and decent water pressure.

My current flat has a lot going for it. Located in zone one, it’s close to good local shops, with a library, gym, post office and GP surgery all nearby. There are excellent transport links. I can walk my dog in the beautiful park at the end of the road and the neighbours are reasonably quiet.

On the downside, I haven’t had a working cooker since I moved in two-and-a-half years ago, the ancient fridge doesn’t keep food properly fresh, and the carpets are a rotting trip hazard that have caused a broken toe and a concussion on separate occasions. Plus, the landlord is trying to evict me.

I didn’t choose this flat when I moved in 2018. Due to chronic ill health, I’ve been living on benefits for several years and when I ran up against the hostile environment of the DWP – another story too painful to recount – I was evicted from a private rented flat because I fell into rent arrears. I had to throw myself on the mercy of my local council, thereby landing up in that spectacularly dystopian world of temporary accommodation.

I had no choice about moving into this flat. I was given an address and told to sign an agreement without reading it, after sitting at the housing department for days. At the time, I was just grateful to have a place to go. Nobody explained that I would have no tenancy rights and that my council landlords could move me at any time, without explanation. Or that “temporary accommodation” isn’t really temporary because I’d be unable to find another private landlord willing to accept housing benefit and that council flats with long leases are as rare as hens’ teeth.

I am treated like a chess piece to be moved at will

The council have been trying to move me repeatedly over the last two years. I don’t really know why – my rent is paid through my Universal Credit and I’m a quiet, responsible tenant. The council asserts there’s a shortage of suitable housing, yet they lease the whole building I live in, where there are several empty flats. I have resisted moving because they want to place me further away from the borough where I’ve lived for years and where I have strong community links. I don’t want to start again with a new GP, new mental health team and outpatients clinic. I don’t want another grotty temporary accommodation flat where I have no rights and no prospect of settling down. I have tried explaining why it’s important to me to stay local but I am treated like a chess piece to be moved at will.

Just days now until the eviction ban is lifted in England. It's a major concern for thousands who have lost jobs during the crisis or whose work is beginning to look uncertain.

Help us lobby to stop people losing their homes: https://t.co/bwGPjAmIge

— Big Issue (@BigIssue) August 19, 2020

In March, I received a court summons informing me the council were seriously moving to evict me. I’d refused their attempts to move me so they were just going to throw me out and kick me off their books completely. Fortunately, by the time the court date was due in April, the government’s eviction ban had taken place and I knew I was safe – at least until mid-August. It’s hanging over me, though, and I’m incredibly anxious that the council will slap another eviction on me as soon as the law allows. It’s terribly damaging to my mental state as I’m stressed and worried and I have very few options.

I’ve been lucky to receive legal help through Shelter and I’m articulate, internet-literate and able to seek advice. Yet, I still don’t completely understand how this all works and why my council landlords are so determined to evict me. I feel completely powerless and dispossessed and unsafe. The lifting of the eviction ban has me terrified, paralysed by anxiety and as unwell as I’ve ever been. I need security of tenure in order to regain my health and rebuild my professional life and I’d love to have a safe place to call home, with a working cooker and fridge. It shouldn’t be too much to hope for.

*name changed