A Roof Over My Head

There apparently aren’t enough homes in Spain for all of us, and thus we read the scare-stories of okupas, frustrated house-hunters, poor souls renting (or even buying) just a single room, or living in a caravan or a car, or I suppose, slumped on a park-bench.

We also know that there are plenty of empty houses, abandoned blocks, rotting urbanisations and so on, but not perhaps located precisely where we want to live, or even if we did, the town hall, the regional authority, the owner or even perhaps some squabbling inheritors have ruled that the place must stay empty for whatever reason there might be. Usually of course to do with greed.

Some owners of a perfectly usable block of apartments – it happens – might leave them empty or unsold for speculative reasons. Sooner or later, thanks to demand, the price will go up.

There might be empty business premises which could be turned into residential housing. Sometimes, although rarely, they are. Many downstairs spaces were originally planned as shops or bars or hairdressers – but no one came forward, and so they got bricked up and covered with graffiti.

The main problem in Spain – or anywhere else – is location. An ambitious young lawyer or accountant wants to live in Madrid, not in Sigüenza (as beautiful as it may be). A dentist or a banker would prefer Barcelona to Cuenca and the best discotheques, restaurants and museums are not necessarily in Teruel.

Or Tossa del Mar. Good beaches though.

But now there’s a new system coming from the USA, which never misses a trick when it comes to screwing money out of the less fortunate. You may live in the sticks to save on city-rentals and practice teleworking. Hunched over the computer each day while wearing nothing more than a tee-shirt with the cat and a cold Martini both waiting for your undivided attention. Rather like I’m doing now.

It seems that clever landlords are charging extra rent if you do that. An apartment is just for sleeping in, showering and watching Netflix. Working from home is ratable.

There are more homes in Spain than we like to imagine, although not all are located within the boundary of the M-30. Google says there are 27 million dwellings and 49,700,000 people living here: which works out at a little less than two people to a home. Whether this figure refers only to functional residences or anything which vaguely has a roof is unclear.

I buck the trend by living alone. You can blame me for all the panic stories listed at the beginning of this essay. But, while I’m alone, I’m not alone, since there are 5.6 million of us. A whopping 28% of all dwellings in the country are unipersonal. Shopping for one.

Well, we could get together, maybe on a Facebook chat, and share and loosen up some property. However, says Infobae, ‘A study suggests that splitting an apartment with people with whom you don't share a romantic relationship has worse consequences for mental health than living alone and not having a partner’. Sure, I would rather have a partner, and while there’s not much room in my hobbit house, hidden in a small forest a few klics from Civilization – except during the summer holidays when it’s Hell out there – I am getting sick of talking to myself and heating baked beans in the microwave.

Am I lonely? Not particularly. But the other night I went out to an Indian in the next town down from me for some company and sat by myself with just a very old paperback for entertainment. Restaurants (particularly during the ever-longer season) prefer two or more to a table, especially if one of them is the designated driver.

So they put me next to the bathroom.

I could go out drinking I suppose or invite the neighbour across the valley over for a tapa (as long as they like beans). Maybe join the lonely hearts and end up living in somebody’s apartment with its view of the sea, watching German TV or listening to Boy George. I could get a library card (done that), perhaps go to the nearby open-air cinema and see the Spiderman movie – or maybe just call it a day and move to a small room in Madrid: with a single bed.