Diary of an estate agent: Kensington lettings agent finds suspected burglar hiding in the cupboard during house viewing

Monday
The gentleman I’m meeting for my first viewing of the week appears to me to be far too affluent to be interested in this particular flat — and I’m right.

It transpires he lives in an extremely large house nearby and the flat is for his cook.

No more than five minutes into the viewing, he says, “I’ll take it,” and makes the call to his accountant to transfer the reservation fee at the asking price — not bad for a Monday.

Tuesday
I’ve got a tricky job on today, with a viewing tour for a brother and sister looking for a flat to share. One is super-arty and the other’s too cool for school, so it is proving difficult to please them both.

Eventually, we find a great two-bedroom flat in Portobello Road that elicits an offer.

Wednesday
One of my favourite properties, a detached house in the grounds of Holland Park, is the scene of a viewing today and the sun’s shining so it’s a perfect day to show it off.

I turn up 15 minutes early but to my surprise, I can’t get in. I stand at the door wrestling with the lock, and soon my jacket is off and my language is questionable.

My applicants arrive and I explain the situation. Fortunately, they are a lovely couple and have a son who’s my age, so they go off to get lunch while I keep trying to get in.

I call the landlord, who only lives around the corner and is equally as lovely as the couple. He arrives within 15 minutes with his set of keys — and he can’t get in either…

We walk around the outside of the house and realise there has been a break-in. The landlord is tall and easily opens the broken window. He suggests that I climb through as I am smaller, so in I go.

Everything in the house worth taking has been completely boxed up, clearly by a burglar. The landlord calls his builder, who comes straight over to fix the window.

With my applicants 15 minutes away, I try to make the house as presentable as possible. I go into the second reception room and the smallest cupboard underneath the TV is ajar.

I try to close it but it won’t shut. That’s odd. I give it another push, it still won’t shut. I give it a real slam and suddenly, to my complete terror, an arm comes out of the cupboard. As any strapping young man would do, I scream and run for it.

I find the builder and he watches the back of the house while I watch the front and call the police. They arrive and go into the house, open the cupboard, make an arrest and bring out the suspect — a female no more than 5ft tall.

I suppose I will see her in court. I go back to the office to share my story, resigning myself to being the subject of my colleagues’ jokes for the foreseeable future.

Thursday
I’m doing a viewing tour for an Embassy with a budget of about £5,000 a week. The favourite is a beautiful house with a swimming pool in Earls Terrace, Kensington.

It’s almost £2,000 over budget but they decide to make an offer. The landlord wants much closer to the asking price, so I let the Embassy know. They aren’t surprised and the search continues.

Friday
A few beers were had by one of the guys last night, so we go for lunch at what I consider Kensington’s finest pub, The Churchill Arms, for one of their signature pad Thais to help him recover.

After two days of negotiations we reach an agreement this afternoon on the two-bedroom flat in Portobello Road. I let the brother-and-sister applicants know — they are so chuffed.