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Why I Live Alone in an Abandoned Hospital (It’s Not What You Think!)
How living as a property guardian offers affordable rent, security, and a creative fix for empty buildings across London.

Property Guardianship: An Innovative Solution to London’s Housing Crisis
In the heart of London, where the cost of rent continues to soar while wages remain stagnant, young people are finding creative ways to stay in the city without breaking the bank. One such solution is property guardianship, where individuals live in empty or disused buildings—such as hospitals, care homes, and police stations—for a fraction of the cost of traditional renting. This arrangement, advertised as an affordable answer to the housing crisis, has gained traction, with an estimated 60,000 property guardians now living across the UK.

Sophia Rosa, a musician who plays the harp and sings, is one of these guardians. She resides in an abandoned hospital in central London’s Zone 1, paying just £400 a month for a spacious room—a stark contrast to the £700 she once paid for a cramped box room. “I don’t pay any bills here,” Sophia explains, noting that a one-off £40 fee for Wi-Fi was her only additional cost upon moving in. The hospital, decommissioned about five years ago, now houses between 150 and 160 people, many of whom are creatives like Sophia, drawn to the low rent and unique spaces.
Property guardianship involves living in buildings “in transition,” often quirky structures like hospitals, schools, or fire stations. These spaces offer large rooms and, in some cases, unique amenities. For instance, Sophia’s current room is on what was once the larynx and pharynx floor, and she has access to a soundproofed studio—perfect for musicians. “It would have cost me £10,000 to soundproof a space myself,” she says, highlighting the value of having such a resource included in her £100 studio fee. This affordability has allowed her to invest time in her craft over the past four years, a luxury she might not have had if forced to pay market rents or relocate.

However, property guardianship comes with trade-offs. Guardians are not tenants but licensees, meaning they have fewer legal protections and can be given just 28 days’ notice to leave. “You just don’t know,” Sophia says, having lived in the hospital for four years despite the uncertainty. Security cameras in communal areas, like the kitchen, can also feel intrusive. “It’s a weird feeling knowing someone could be monitoring you while you’re making breakfast,” she admits.
The hospital itself is a mix of quirky and eerie. Sophia mentions unconfirmed rumors of a morgue somewhere in the building, and the basement’s creepy atmosphere has been used for music videos and even a short horror film. Despite these quirks, the community within the building is tight-knit. Sophia has collaborated with other residents, including a videographer who lives there, and the shared spaces foster a sense of camaraderie. “If I need to borrow something or use someone’s skills, I can find that within this building,” she says.

Before becoming a guardian, Sophia felt trapped in a 12-month rental contract for a tiny room, spending over a third of her income on rent with little hope of saving for a deposit. This is a common struggle in London, where box-sized rooms, shared flats, and high costs have become the norm for private renters. A recent survey found that half of people under 24 plan to leave the city within the next decade due to unaffordability. Property guardianship, while not perfect, offers a lifeline for those like Sophia who want to stay and pursue their passions.
The hospital, once a waiting room and reception area filled with the marks of old chairs, has been repurposed creatively. Sophia has hosted gigs there, building a stage and inviting promoters who were initially unaware the space wasn’t a traditional venue. “They just turned up and went, ‘It seems some people live here,’” she laughs. The building’s future, however, is uncertain. Slated to become luxury flats and hotels, it was meant to be redeveloped years ago, but delays have pushed the timeline past 2025. “This will be the last time this space is lived in by people like this,” Sophia reflects, noting the irony of affordable housing giving way to high-end properties.
For Sophia, guardianship has been transformative. “I feel like I’m nailing London,” she says, having reduced her rent by £100 each year. The low costs have given her the freedom to focus on her music, and her career is now gaining traction. Without this opportunity, she might have had to leave London or take a job unrelated to her passion to cover rent.
Property guardianship is not without its flaws—legal uncertainties and the lack of permanence can be daunting. Yet, for many young Londoners, it represents an innovative way to navigate the city’s housing crisis. As Sophia’s story shows, it’s an imperfect solution to an imperfect market, offering a glimmer of hope for those determined to stay in one of the world’s most expensive cities.