Little did we realise the storm that was about to be unleashed after the death of the landlady’s husband. We had rented our bungalow for nearly twelve years. For the first eight years the rent was unchanged, and then - four years ago - it was proposed the rent would rise by €50 a month. This was more than fair, and we accepted the proposal. Under the Rent Control Act, rents for certain properties were restricted to rises every two years of about 6%. We never knew whether our bungalow was covered by this, but the landlady’s husband was surprised when I mentioned it to him. Two years later, another (quite expected) rise of €50 was proposed and we accepted that. Negotiations were amicable, and we were aware that rents were rising all over the island.
Our tenancy agreement was due to be renewed at the end of June, but nothing was mentioned. We paid the rent on time (as we had always done) and Ann and I agreed that we should mention this to the landlady. It became apparent that she had no idea the tenancy agreement was due for renewal but we felt it was the honourable and correct thing to do. Ann was met with an apparent unwillingness to discuss it, and our attempt to pay the rent was rebuffed. We tried twice more and then “I am raising the rent”. No discussion, no negotiation - just a flat 15%+ rise.
Ann and I said “No” - bearing in mind no new tenancy agreement was proposed. And to exacerbate the situation, only for twelve months. What a bombshell. We immediately went into “Let’s sort this out” mode, and on that very day saw the most beautiful house in another village. We telephoned the agents, had a viewing that afternoon and fell in love with the house, its environs and the village it was in. One look at Ann’s face was enough to know. I asked the agent how we could proceed and he explained that we were the third couple to view the property that day. I offered to pay the month’s deposit that afternoon.
A long phone call ensued with the owner (a lady lawyer in Nicosia) and whatever the agent said it was enough. She would drive from Nicosia on Sunday to meet us and take things further. Sunday came and we got on well with her, paid the deposit in cash and signed a detailed and correctly drafted tenancy agreement. One snag - the property was not available until the beginning of September. Patience required.
No word from the landlady in Argaka until her daughter telephoned and said she wished to view the property and discuss things. A meeting was arranged with her mother and her at the house but they did not show up or let us know they were not coming. Texts and phone calls followed with a more demanding and strident tone. Ann telephoned back and was told the daughter would arrive at ten o’clock the following morning and - if she was refused entry - would call the police to have us evicted. And she had decided the rent would rise by 23%+. Tempers flared and Ann is not one to back down when threatened.
For our own protection we engaged a Cypriot (English speaking) lawyer, who became the intermediary and finally managed to take the steam out of the situation. It was agreed we would pay the current rent for July and August (although the majority of August’s rent would be made up of the deposit held from twelve years ago). A visit to the house was arranged for the landlady, accompanied by her son, to “inspect the house”. What a farce that turned out to be! The son (whom we knew) obviously did not want to be there, and translated (accurately, we obviously did not know) for his mother. She stomped around the house, like a silent banshee.
Surprises there were, especially when we told her that the gas hob and electric oven were ours (with receipts) and we did not intend to leave them there. They were offered to her for a reasonable price and the son promised he would telephone over the next two days to let us know. We never heard another word.
It was as a result of that meeting that we came to the decision that we would not leave anything of ours behind. We would offer for sale anything we did not require for our new home, and what we could not sell, we would give away or even have taken to the municipal dump. Over the succeeding weeks we managed to sell both kitchen islands, the gas hob, the electric oven, the sofa bed, the Ikea chest of drawers, the swimming pool rail, the timing mechanism for the irrigation (and gave away the irrigation system we had had fitted). We did not sell the corner cabinet and the matching bookcase, and they fitted in perfectly to our new home. The other sofa, and some artwork, we had transported to the end of the lane and posted the coordinates on Facebook. They were picked up the next day and we trust the person who came to pick them up, enjoyed them.
The story of the chain link fence, the Australian “lawyer”, and the Police will feature in the third part of this blog, dear reader, and you should be ready to have your “flabber well and truly gasted”.
