Do not live in a sharehouse in London if you want to stay sane

The worst thing about living in London is not the rent price…

Which is insane to say, considering you’re paying the price of a small villa in Spain to share a kitchen with strangers who may or may not be functioning adults.

But no, the real problem is the people you live with.

London has this unique ability to take completely normal human beings and turn them into something slightly… off. Like you’re constantly part of a social experiment you never signed up for.

I’ll explain.

First of all, you won’t get any sleep.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re in central London or outside. “Quiet area” means absolutely nothing. I lived in places that were supposed to be safe and calm, and I still had nights with sirens, shouting, and neighbours having full emotional breakdowns like it was part of their daily routine.

You go to bed thinking you’ll rest, and then suddenly it’s 2am and someone is screaming outside like they’re in a movie scene. Then 4am, police sirens. Then 5am, construction workers shouting like they’re being paid per decibel.

My neighbour once woke me up on a Sunday at 6:05 am, screaming like something terrible was…