If you’re a member of generation rent, could a three-bed flat at the Barbican Centre be the answer to your dreams of a future adorned with art?
Three things are certain in life: death, taxes and black mould in the bathroom. The latter is something my ex-flatmate Alex and I argued about. The mould was growing and, despite my concerns that soon it would develop eyes and watch us while we showered, Alex was adamant we should leave it alone.
“The amount of money we give that useless landlord,” he insisted, “I am not spending a penny to fix what he should.”
Related: Generation rent: why I’ll never live in a massive open-plan apartment
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