One morning, about two weeks, my flatmate Jacque asked me if I had noticed the wall lately – right behind the door. I had, just the night before. There was a long line of fuzzy greenish-black. I got a q-tip out of my room and swiped some of the fuzz. Yep. Mold.
Obviously, London is a damp place. And, I sometimes forget, but England is an island. But the big problem here was our leaky shower.
Word got around. Kenzie, who lived in the flat next to me, discovered some of this lovely mold behind her bed. I checked behind mine, and yep, mold. Fantastic.
Thus began the headache. Jacque told Nido’s maintenance about the mold problem. Days later I emailed maintenance to tell them about it too. Finally, after many emails and miscommunications, we were moved out of our mold infested room (as were the girls in the flat next to ours).
Moving was annoying, but the end result? I’m not complaining. I moved from the 7th floor to the 18th. My view… enjoy. St. Paul’s is just to the right of this picture.
View from my flat