"Giving notice" is a polite way of saying you want to get rid of a tenant. It is also legally protective of both parties. With a formal, written (or typed) piece of paper, specifying the date upon which you wish to "reclaim possession of the premises" everywhere knows where they stand. Or should do . . .

Problems arise when, say, a tenant does not want to leave and is in denial about receiving the (posted) notice. Funny how all their other mail arrived ok, but that one letter posted by you, the landlord, seems not to have arrived.

So you write another one, and hand deliver it to the letter box. Or, as happened, the letterbox is sealed up and you slip it under the door.

The tenant still might not move. More, they refuse you entry when you call. They could be strangling cats in there for all you know and making necklaces of their entrails. Worse, has she stiffed herself and nobody knows?

That's when - by a weird association of ideas - you see yourself pictured in the "tabbies" (tabloid papers) emerging from your own property with black plastic bags, escorted by detectives and health service workers . . .

You already see the made-up quotes from the neighbours: "Imagine this happening in such a quiet area . . . an' 'e seemed such a nice man, the landlord . . . Well, you never know, do you . . .?"

Never was a truer word spoken (or made up by a busy hack). Mind you, you never do know - what your tenants are up to. By and large, you do not need to know, which is just as well.

When they move on, you will be glad you did not know because, if like moi, you have a suspicious and lurid mind, some of what you find will be capable, as lawyers say, of only one explanation.

That pack of light powder I found behind the bathroom cabinet could be - well, let's see, it could be an abrasive kept for cleaning teeth when toothpaste ran out . . . Or it could be white grouting cement for repairing a tiny, weeny crack in a tile - such is the exemplary and responsible nature of my tenant. On the other hand, I sniff it and feel like I've had a double dose of Solpadeine in one go . . . well, I'm a big boy now and if I don't fancy being a landlord, I should take up some other profession, like selling used cars in Finglas.

Similarly, I must not let my mind wander over the fancy handcuffs found on top of the wardrobe. Bet the tenant flung them up there, and totally forgot to look when packing to leave . . . I mean, one of her many boyfriends could have been a prison warder and she put the fur lining on the bracelets as a joke. Like most landlords, I think only well of my charges.

Which is why I was bit taken aback to be accosted by the forces of law and order when clearing up an apartment I had let to Eastern Europeans, male and female. As the males were heavily into body building I was not surprised to see the marks of the odd dropped dumbell on the wooden floor, or indeed to find in the cupboard, exotic teas and nectars from rural Romania.

In fact I used to share same with them on my visits and got to like the dank taste of tea without milk, though I was not much good at the weights. But my puny performance served the purpose of "bonding", giving them a laugh and me a chance to know them better.

So when the complaints came about noisy parties, I was able, without rancour, to tell them cool it. "Of course, Mr Landlord, thank you very much, we will be quiet."

They kept the place reasonably well and always paid in cash, as I told the forces of law and order, who put on the white plastic gloves and looked in all the obvious places. They did not tell me what they were looking for, but showed me some grainy pictures taken of men at a bank ATM. I could not identify any of my tenants in the pictures.

Where were they now? No idea, I said. In truth I had been about to give them notice, because I'd had more complaints about more parties.

But in truth, also, my tenants had their antennae out for other kinds of signals, because I got a hurried phone call telling me where the rent money was, and "Thank very much - goodbye". I did not have much clearing up to do - in fact, I would say the apartment was sanitised.