The worst was a four bedroom in town which held seven people (not including two children). The window faced a wall and with a double bed in the room there was maybe a postage stamp area to walk around in. £200 a month? No thanks.
Another one seemed okay, if a bit grotty, but it happened to be in Arbury which is supposed to be a dangerous area. It’s not the nicest place in the world, but not a patch on the heroin-sodden Liberties where I grew up.
Finally settled on a place off Mill Road. A nice attic double room with enough space for me to sprawl and feel comfortable. Now it’s the task of moving the material possessions I’ve managed to accumulate over the past year up three flights of stairs.