End of Tenancy Cleaning in Farringdon

Britton Street is one of those Clerkenwell streets where the ground floor is an architect's studio or a graphic design agency and the upper floors are flats that used to be part of the same workshop. The building had a wide goods entrance with a buzzer panel beside it and a freight lift that still worked but made a noise that suggested it preferred not to. We took the stairs.

Second floor. An open-plan living space at the front with the kitchen along one wall, two bedrooms at the rear, a bathroom, and a hallway that was really just the section between the front door and the open-plan space. Exposed brick on three walls. Steel beams across the ceiling at about 2.8 metres. Polished concrete floor throughout except the bedrooms, which had engineered oak. The front windows were the original steel-frame industrial windows, single-glazed with secondary glazing fitted behind them. The flat was about 850 sqft and rented for £3,400 a month furnished.

The tenant was a lawyer on a 12-month corporate relocation from a firm in Frankfurt. He'd lived alone, cooked rarely, worked long hours, and spent most weekends somewhere else. The flat was furnished by the landlord — a leather sofa, a glass-topped dining table, a bed frame, wardrobes, a desk. The kind of furniture that gets selected for corporate lets because it photographs well and wipes clean. Managed by Hurford Salvi Carr from their Clerkenwell office on the corner.

Parked via a metered bay on Britton Street. One hour maximum. We'd be done unloading in 10 minutes and moving the van to a longer bay on Clerkenwell Road. Carried the kit up the stairs past the architecture studio.

The kitchen first. One wall of the open-plan space — about 4 metres of handleless charcoal units with a quartz worktop, integrated Miele oven, induction hob, integrated dishwasher and fridge-freezer. This was a kitchen that had been used maybe twice a week for 12 months by a man who made coffee every morning and reheated food most evenings. The oven was light. Single dwell, one pass, 10 minutes. Hob clean — one faint coffee ring where a moka pot had sat. Quartz wiped with specialist stone product. Dishwasher interior cleaned, door seal wiped. Fridge-freezer cleaned — nearly empty, barely used, took 5 minutes. Inside all the cupboards — half of them had never been opened. The wall behind the hob: the brick was exposed, and we'd taped a plastic sheet over a 1-metre section before spraying the degreaser, because a mist of degreaser on unsealed brick darkens it permanently. Sheet removed, brick untouched, kitchen surfaces clean. Kitchen total: 28 minutes.

The open-plan living area. The polished concrete floor mopped with pH-neutral product. The furniture: leather sofa vacuumed and wiped with leather conditioner. Cushions lifted — a German-language newspaper from November, a takeaway menu from the Thai place on Exmouth Market, and a single euro coin. Glass-topped table cleaned — glass cleaner on the top, the frame wiped. Desk wiped. The steel beams across the ceiling: each one wiped with a damp cloth. Five beams, each about 4 metres long. Dust on the top surface — the grey film that settles on anything horizontal in a London flat over 12 months. 8 minutes on the beams alone.

The windows. Two large industrial steel-frame windows with secondary glazing. The steel frames had 12 panes each, divided by thin muntins. Each pane cleaned, each muntin wiped. The secondary glazing panels behind them: unclipped, cleaned on both faces, reclipped. 24 panes on the primaries, 2 secondary panels with 4 surfaces. Total window time: 18 minutes. The light that came through afterward was noticeably different — warehouse conversions depend on their windows because the ceilings are lower than people expect and the floor-to-window ratio is everything.

Brick walls. Three walls of exposed brick, each dusted with a soft brush attachment on the vacuum at low suction. Not cleaned, not wiped, dusted. The brick had been repointed at some point and was in good condition — warm red, even colour, no flaking. One small section near the bathroom door had a white mark where something had splashed against it. Investigated — looked like toothpaste. Removed carefully with a barely-damp cloth, dabbing rather than wiping, because rubbing toothpaste into brick pushes the paste into the pores. Came off. 12 minutes for all three walls.

Bathroom. A modern refit — walk-in shower with a frameless glass panel, wall-hung basin, wall-hung toilet, concrete-effect floor tiles. Light use — a single person for 12 months. Shower glass: faint limescale on the lower third. Single descaler pass, one wipe. Taps: light crusts. Toilet: light calcium. Everything moderate, everything quick. 14 minutes.

Two bedrooms. Master: engineered oak floor mopped with specialist product. A double bed frame — the landlord's — wiped. Under the bed: vacuumed. Wardrobe — fitted, wiped inside. One steel-frame window with secondary glazing, same routine as the front. 14 minutes. Second bedroom: used as a home office by the look of the desk position and the cable management. Floor mopped. Window done. Desk and chair wiped. A small ink mark on the engineered floor under the desk — fountain pen ink, about the size of a 5p piece. Cleaned with specialist ink product. It came off the sealed surface without marking. 10 minutes.

Hallway: concrete floor mopped. Front door — heavy, industrial-style — wiped. 3 minutes.

Total time: 3.5 hours. Two people. An 850 sqft furnished warehouse conversion where the beams took 8 minutes, the brick walls took 12, the windows took 18, and the oven took 10 because the tenant ate Thai food from Exmouth Market more often than he used the Miele. The most time-consuming single element was the glass — industrial steel frames with secondary glazing demand patience and a steady hand because the muntins are thin and the cleaning cloth has to go around each one individually.

Hurford Salvi Carr's clerk arrived the next day. She had a digital inventory with the original check-in photos from 12 months earlier and a printed condition report. She came up the stairs without using the freight lift, which told us she'd been in the building before.

Brick walls: she walked the perimeter slowly, looking at each wall. She stopped at the toothpaste location near the bathroom door. Looked at it. The brick was clean, even colour, no residue. She compared it to the check-in photo on her tablet. The check-in photo showed the same section of brick, unmarked. She was satisfied.

Kitchen: oven opened, phone torch in. Clean — barely used, barely needed cleaning. She checked the brick behind the hob — specifically looking for degreaser darkening. Clean, untouched. That's a check that tells you the clerk has seen a warehouse kitchen where someone sprayed degreaser without protecting the brick. She'd seen the damage. She was checking that we hadn't caused it.

Furniture: leather sofa — she ran a hand across the arm. Conditioned, not sticky, not dry. Glass table — she looked at it at an angle for streaks. Clean. The German newspaper, the takeaway menu, and the euro coin were on the kitchen counter with the keys.

Windows: she checked one secondary panel by looking at the inner face at an angle. Clean. She didn't unclip it. She trusted the angle test.

Beams: she looked up. Clean. She didn't touch them — she couldn't reach them without a step, and the angle was enough.

Bathroom: shower glass angle-tested. Bedrooms: floors checked. Ink mark location under the desk: she crouched and looked. Clean.

Twelve minutes. Everything passed. The condition report marked the property as returned in the same condition as check-in. The corporate relocation company would sign off and the deposit would return through whatever process large law firms use for these things.

Deposit returned in full within 14 days. The lawyer moved back to Frankfurt. The flat on Britton Street would be refurnished, rephotographed, and re-let within the month to the next corporate tenant who needed somewhere to live while working in London. The leather sofa would be sat on by someone from a different country. The Miele oven would continue to be barely used. The Thai menu from Exmouth Market would be replaced by a new one. The euro coin had gone home.