In the years since the Conservatives came to power in 2010, Britain’s housing crisis has grown steadily worse. Today, England has one of the highest rates of homelessness in Europe.
With nowhere to go, people facing homelessness can be placed in temporary accommodation by their local council. The number living in such stop-gap housing has increased by 23 per cent in the last three years. In some cases, as I have previously reported, households are languishing in temporary accommodation for decades, whether in a hotel or Bed and Breakfast, a facility run by local authorities or private rental (which is often poor quality).
The number of children under 16 in temporary accommodation has skyrocketed in recent years, but among those affected is another, less discussed group: the elderly. According to government data, since March 2022 the number of households with members over-65 in temporary accommodation has increased by 41 per cent, rising from 2,430 in March 2022 to 3,430 by March 2024—that’s another 1,000 homeless pensioners. More than 60 per cent of them live in London.
Elderly people are increasingly living in private rented homes, a situation less stable than council housing or property ownership. With costs rising, more over-65s are at risk of ending up in temporary accommodation. Research by the Centre for Ageing Better reveals that more than one in three people aged 65 and over in the private rented sector now live in relative poverty. Holly Holder, the charity’s deputy director for homes, tells me that the number of older renters is now at “record levels”.
Yet the official number of elderly people in temporary accommodation is the tip of the iceberg. The information collected by the government only records the age of the “main applicant” for the accommodation, meaning that 94-year-old Katya, for instance, who has relocated more than half a dozen times in the last 18 months, does not show up in the government’s figures. She lives in temporary accommodation with her daughter and son-in-law, Anna and Abul (the main applicants). Having lived in three different hotels, the family’s latest abode is a two-bedroom house.
Katya was born in the Soviet Union, in modern day Belarus, but spent her adulthood in Ukraine until 2021, when she came to Britain. She worked in retail and factories until her retirement. Katya, Anna and Abul were privately renting until 2023 when their landlord issued a so-called Section 21 notice, informing them they were being evicted. The government is introducing legislation to prevent the use of these notices as part of the forthcoming Renters’ Rights Bill, but that is not expected to become law until spring 2025. Facing homelessness, the family applied for assistance from their local authority, the London Borough of Waltham Forest. Katya spent her 94th birthday living in temporary accommodation in a hotel.
According to Freedom of Information requests commissioned by Citizens UK and Trust for London as part of forthcoming research, Katya is not alone. A 97-year-old in the London Borough of Bromley has been living in temporary accommodation for 1,269 days. A 95-year-old in Kingston upon Thames is similarly living in temporary accommodation. And a 91-year-old placed in temporary accommodation by Westminster City Council was “accepted as homeless when he was 71”—meaning he may have been in those living arrangements for two decades.
Katya lost 15kg in weight while living in hotels. She is now in a house, and no longer losing weight at such an extreme rate, but her current accommodation doesn’t suit her needs either. She is sitting on her bed in a coat as I arrive, which is where I’m told she spends most of her day. In the bathroom next to her room is a rat trap. The next morning, Abul sends me a time-stamped photograph of a dead mouse that has been caught in it, and of bed bugs on the walls. The family’s GP has prescribed antibiotics because they’ve been bitten so many times.
When I first met Abul, Anna, and Katya, they had spent a year in a local Travelodge. In this new temporary home, the living room is on the first floor and inaccessible to Katya, who finds stairs difficult and needs help to get into the shower. When she makes a rare trip outside Katya uses a wheelchair. It took two months for adaptations the family requested to be made, turning two stairs on the ground floor into a slope so she can get in and out of the house. Abul scrolls through the messages he has sent asking for help, most of which went unanswered.
Katya smiles a lot and is stoic, being born into the “Silent Generation”, and spends most of her day knitting. Her best friend, Oliver, the family parrot, is usually by her side. Anna tells me that Katya, who does not speak English, wants to be buried in Ukraine, but she doesn’t know the full extent of the war there. They are hopeful Katya will be able to spend her 95th birthday in more secure accommodation.
“Waiting is more painful than death”, Anna tells me. The family is not only waiting to move out of temporary accommodation, they are waiting to celebrate Christmas. They don’t want to put their Christmas tree up until the bedbugs are treated. There isn’t space in the kitchen, so it’ll be placed upstairs, out of Katya’s reach.
The instability of more than a year spent in these conditions is taking its toll on Anna and Abul, as is caring for Anna’s elderly mother in such circumstances. Anna has enrolled onto her local college to improve her English. She hopes it’ll help her get a job, but she also needs to get out of the house. It’s “for her mind”, she says. Abul is off work with a urine infection. Their daughter is studying in the United States, and they are apprehensive about her returning.
As I leave, Oliver says goodbye—“Ciao”. Abul and Anna spent a decade living in Italy. Like much of east London, they live on a row of pleasant terraced Victorian houses. It can’t be that bad, I had thought before I visited, but when I reached their door—they are set back behind a shop and down an alley—I felt guilty for thinking that, realising that the one thing their property shares with those beside it is that its condition is Dickensian. There is a second property set back down the alley that looks like a garage. Abul tells me that four people live there.
Katya’s story is so much more than her age, but alongside the increase in homeless children, it is a stark illustration of why action needs to be taken now to fix the housing crisis. There are nonagenarians across London without a place to call home. How long until we find a centenarian in temporary accommodation?
Read more: Temporary accommodation nation
Ahsan Khan, deputy leader of the London Borough of Waltham Forest and cabinet member for housing and regeneration, said that the council understands “how concerning the threat of losing your home is for anyone who experiences it. We are determined to offer all the support we can during a difficult time.”
He added: “London is in the grip of a housing crisis that means there is not enough accommodation available for everyone who needs it. The costs of arranging a place to stay are rising fast, while the availability of suitable... accommodation is declining. Our spending on temporary accommodation has more than doubled in the last year alone...
The suitability of temporary accommodation is laid out under housing law, to which we adhere. Furthermore, every offer of temporary accommodation is made in line with our publicly available temporary accommodation policy. When we are made aware of potential issues in temporary accommodation we have arranged, we will do what we can to resolve them and ensure that households who are homeless have a safe and secure place to stay.”
*Names have been changed
This article has been updated to clarify that Katya spent her 94th birthday in temporary accommodation, rather than her 93rd
