Romantic old crap...

March 2005 we moved into, what we thought, was a romantic old house.
The paint on the outside was peeling, there was no less than 3 different layers and colors, the entrance so low that you have to watch your head when you walk in, red/earth colored floor tiles, more peeling paint and broken panels, old wooden stairway that would shake a bit when walking up or down it, a small somewhat new kitchen, an old small bathroom with wood and green tiles, a tiny washplace, upstairs was a platform and two small rooms.
Perfect for the two of us, we would even have room for an office.

There was a well with a waterpump where all of the water for the house would come from, a boiler/oven outside in a shed, that would warm up water that then would run through the house and warm it up.

So romantic.

The landlord seemed like a nice lady too.

I don't think I've ever been more wrong.
It's now December 2006, our second winter in this house.
I think we've managed to actually tame the boiler so that it doesn't overheat and cause panic and shaking and rumbling pipes. It does get pretty cold though when we don't have time to fire up the oven. We need to buy a hairdryer, in case the water pump freezes over.
It's tedious, but it works. I guess. At least now we have a water pump that works, when we moved in, it didn't exactly work and we've gone for 4 or 5 days once without any water at all.
That is pretty creepy. Since that, the well has been "The Well from Hell"

The electric installations are illegal, wonderful.

I've taken a fall down the shaky, homemade, wooden stairs a few times and banged my head against the romantic stonewall. I guess you have to suffer for romance too?

One radiator isn't working, one garage door fell off, two electric outlets stopped working completely and the door to the oven needs to be kept shut with a stick.
The nice lady, landlord, turned out to be the MOTHER of the landlord. And the actual landlord, well, he creeps me out, he scares me and so does his wife.
He was screaming at my poor SO once.

So I guess we'll just wait till the romantic old house falls apart completely, shrug and find someplace else to live.

I don't think I'll ever rent with a private person again.