She is a beautiful, understated woman. She lives in a rented house where, four years ago, she nursed her husband while he died. Since then, she has been raising three children there by herself.
One day, the owner turned up at the door and told her he was selling the house. Later the same day a real estate agent arrived and asked to come in so he could value the house. Her two daughters came to the door and the agent asked them how they felt about being evicted. The girls had no idea at that stage that the house was even on the market.
The next day, while my friend was out, photographers entered the house. They moved family photos, books and ornaments off kitchen benches, coffee table and other surfaces, in order to take uncluttered pictures. They left all these items in piles on the floor. Someone rang later to tell my friend the photos they had taken were fabulous and she should be very pleased with them.
My friend was told the house was to be auctioned forthwith. The auction date was set for three weeks hence. She made inquiries about her rights as a tenant. She discovered she could, in certain circumstances, be required to vacate the premises with as little as 14 days' notice.
She was to have strangers trooping through the house, staring. She will probably have no choice but to find another house and move. No-one will help with the expense, or the work involved.
This is the state of affairs for all Australians who rent. No matter who they are, how much they pay, how well they treat the houses they live in, how long their leases are, they are second-class citizens.
My friend lives in a house that is owned by someone as an investment property. She does not know why he is selling it, nor does she need to. What would be good to know, however, is why we have allowed the business of housing ourselves to become such a lottery — such a lopsided mess.
It seems less the result of careful social policy and more the fallout zone between scrambling into the mortgage market