Unlock Your Garden Dreams: How the New Renters’ Rights Act Changes Everything!

It was heartening to learn that the new rental agreement for William and Kate at Forest Lodge in Windsor includes clauses requiring them to maintain the property in a “clean and tidy” state and to keep it “free from weeds.” This brings a sense of camaraderie! It’s something I can personally relate to as a fellow renter, familiar with the demands often placed by landlords. My own rental contract contains a similar clause.

Interestingly, my landlords have never really enforced these stipulations. They prefer what one might delicately term a “hands-off” method, which, admittedly, is better than the alternative. Just this afternoon, I found myself gardening, not out of obligation, but because after neglecting it for four years, I’ve decided to reclaim enjoyment of my garden.

Though I refer to it as “my” garden, it is, in reality, part of my rental property. When renting, there’s always the question of how much effort and money one should invest in a temporary home, especially with the looming possibility of having to move unexpectedly. This sentiment was particularly acute until recently. Just yesterday, a letter from Clarion Housing had my pulse racing, a reaction born from past stresses. But rather than announcing another rent increase, it detailed new legal protections for tenants (cheers to the Labour Party!). Now, evictions can only occur for substantial reasons, and this protection extends to my cat as well.

Clarion seems to understand more than most that a rental should still feel like a home; they allow us to decide on our interior decorations, including wall colors. Unlike some of my acquaintances, we never felt the need to conceal our cat during inspections. Mackerel, an indoor cat, would be a challenge for anyone trying to evict her, a sentiment I hold with a hint of defiance.

So there I was, more optimistic about my tenant status than usual, tending to weeds and playfully flicking my hair like a princess (apparently, Kate handles most of the royal gardening, which feels quite relatable). Reflecting on the 15 years I’ve spent renting this place, I feel a mix of gratitude for the stability and frustration over the money spent on rent. If regular rent payments qualified one for a mortgage, I’d likely be a homeowner by now. Unfortunately, the substantial down payment required remains an obstacle.

Whenever I write about renting, I receive well-intentioned emails from readers suggesting I buy a home in more affordable areas like Swansea. To preempt such suggestions, I must emphasize my strong reasons for staying in London. Over a drink, I’d likely share these reasons, which I believe most would find quite convincing. No one is entitled to live in north London—soon, it seems, only millionaires will afford it. So, I might as well savor it while I can, despite the constant construction noises from those millionaires expanding their basements.

Meanwhile, I continue gardening, regally. I admire the roses—roses I planted a decade ago as bare-root cuttings from a discount store, not fully knowing what I was doing. They’ve grown to a towering 8 feet. This year, the small magnolia tree I planted finally blossomed, a development ten years in the making, one I never expected to see.

It could be disheartening to still be here, renting, given the national obsession with homeownership, which can sometimes make renting feel shameful or embarrassing. I hold quite radical views on landlords—I believe it should be socially unacceptable to be one, and they should face public disapproval. This stance is complicated by the fact that I know and like some people who are landlords, which presents a moral dilemma. In my view, anyone who owns rental property is essentially hoarding resources.

The royal family, despite their lease, will never truly understand the realities of everyday renters. They haven’t had to endure endless hold music while trying to reach a landlord or worry about the health impacts of mold on a child. Nor have they faced the anxiety of rent hikes.

Despite these challenges, this place is my home. It’s the only one I have, and I intend to fully enjoy and utilize it, just like many of my neighbors who are also renters. They’ve planted fruit trees and bought patio furniture. For my part, I’ve installed a swing for my son, and this weekend he’ll enjoy it while I relax under a parasol, admiring the roses I’ve nurtured. They are thriving and beautiful and, despite everything, they are mine.

• Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett is a Guardian columnist