Court, money, potential home, Peter Gabriel & another night in B&B

Homeless in London part 6: Tuesday, 27th. April 1976

Over to the court first thing this morning, which seems to be something of a ritual these days. Sadly they were not able to find our landlord yesterday but ‘should have her today’. I wonder what they base that statement on. Today would hopefully provide respite in some ways: I had wages and a grant cheque to pick up and a flat to visit. The total of wages and grant was £286.12 but, when deposited in the bank it reduced to £229.43 to clear my debt. But at least I had access to cash.

I spent 90 minutes taking to Professor Pugh at King’s College after picking up my grant cheque, most of it about my year at King’s and transferring to the LSE for year 2. I am not sure that recent events and the fact that all my university books and notes were in a house I had no access to cut much ice. Homelessness meant spending lots of time with police, courts, advice agencies and looking for somewhere to live – and almost no time at lectures, classes or tutorials. Or in the library for that matter. Besides, my thoughts were elsewhere.

I was glad to have lunch in the refectory at King’s before popping over to the 3 Tuns at LSE. Met up with Andy there who was excited to tell me we might have Peter Gabriel and the Glitter Band for Freshers. Peter Gabriel would be a great coup but the Glitter Band was not my cup of tea at all. (Looking back from the present and what we learned many years later about Gary Glitter, it was just as well that we didn’t book him).

After the Tuns I was off to Arnold Hill, the solicitors at Waterloo, to meet up with one of my flatmates. He had news of a potential flat for the three of us in Stanthorpe Road, Streatham. This was exciting: first money and now a home? However, we got to the flat at the appointed time but no-one there – after a while we gave up and got back to central London. We later learned that it had already been let – they just neglected to tell us or cancel the appointment.

After a stint in the LSE library I was back to King’s Cross and a night in the exotically named Devon Hotel. My diary made no bones about it stating, in capitals, TO BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS. A shabby place and nowhere near worth the £3.50 for a night’s stay. I wonder what breakfast will be like…