I used to live in a B&B
It was one of those where the council put you whilst looking for more permanent accomodation. It was my then boyfriend's place as he has been thrown out of his foster home and he was too old to be found another place. Living in this B&B with us were a family of an old, ginger glamour model, her husband and her three vile daughters, one of whom was 14, had herpes and was happily shagging my boyfriend whilst I was out (I didn't get anything, luckily), a pregnant girl who would steal our whisky, a nice couple with two demon toddlers, the owners son and daughter, the son belonging to the TA and was in love with a Muslim girl (meaning he was depressed all the time as he couldn't be with her) and the daughter with two lovely kids and a dodgy perm. Lastly there were the lesbian couple with two IVF kids, who could be your best mates if you had a few beers free or could be the worst thing to encounter.

There were others who came and went, such as the old lady tramp on probation with a huge Alsation that she took to court and what seemed to be a normal guy who turned suddenly aggressive and began a hate campaign against us. I later found out it was because he and my boyfriend were shagging the same girl, but obviously neither of them deigned to mention it at the time.

A few things spring to mind whilst living there. Nobody really got on, positive pregnancy tests being left outside the lesbians door, food being removed from cupboards and arranged in weird patterns and sprinkled with flour and pasta and our door being kicked down whilst we were out one day. The funniest (to me, anyway) was when me and my boyfriend were on a 'break' and had moved from that place, he returned to pick up his stuff. The girl he was shagging had persuaded the owner to give all the bf's stuff to her, and she had then moved. Except from his tv, which now took pride of place in the communal living room.
(missc, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 0:35, Reply)