A Return To Student Living

The start of a new year and a new “Do Not” sign in the building. This one tells us not to force the automatic door that leads to the outside world. I've been wondering for some time who I share a building with and often feel like I'm back in student halls, albeit less sociable ones. Last year a series of unbelievable incidents have led me to question the maturity of my co-inhabitants:

Exhibit One:

Someone has grafittied on the wall beside the lift and it looks like something that would be more commonplace among the rougher inner city schools and certainly nothing Banksy would be proud of.

Exhibit Two:

The metal panels in the lift have been kicked in by someone who clearly has anger management issues.

Exhibit Three:

I get into the lift to find the plastic flooring has been magicked away by some hilarious prankster.

Exhibit Four:

The bin beside the lift designed for the deposit of resident's junk mail has repeatedly gone missing. As a result, it now seems to no longer be a permanent feature of the building.

Exhibit Five:

The number for our post box has been stolen, alongside several others.

Exhibit Six:

For weeks on end, a highly considerate occupant of a flat below managed to block out our TV and own stereo with grating dance tunes until someone else must have complained.

Exhibit Seven:

Unlike the flooring, the mirror in the lift is still there but now completely smashed up.

Exhibit Eight:

After my dad's arrival for the weekend and a few drinks in our local, we returned to the flat. On entering the lift, we were met by an unbearably unpleasant smell and a foul sight. The smell was indeed so vile, one of our number decided to walk the twelve plus flights to the top while those remaining edged around the walls of the lift and held our breath. Later the next day the offending item was gone and the girl sharing the lift with me asked if I knew what had been in the lift the day before, claiming someone had managed to rather messily relieve themselves - a security camera, our break-in couldn't prompt, swiftly followed. I'm still puzzled as to which orifice the offending puddle came from.

Exhibit Nine:

Our parking space has been utilised by some ill-mannered chancer on numerous occasions.

Exhibit Ten:

There are now cigarette burns on the stairwell carpet on the seventh floor.

And that isn't everything - I could moan about the sacks of rubbish lazy and highly inconsiderate residents occasionally litter the hallways with but I won't go on. Who are these people and what's their problem with the lift? And well done for prompting a rise in our maintenance fee – thanks.