Faktum vendor Uffe: “I’ll never get a flat again”

21 January 2026 – Linné Hostel

On Vegagatan in Linnéstaden, central Gothenburg, there is a hostel where Uffe has booked a 25-night stay for 10,100 kronor (€935). The corridor is long and narrow, and at one end you can see the tip of Uffe’s beige boot sticking out. It keeps the door to the small room open. “Knock knock,” I say, and Uffe calls out “Hi” from his bed. He’s just had a nap.

The room contains a single bed, a small wooden bedside table, a chair and a few hooks for clothes, as well as a mirror on the wall. And a washbasin, but Uffe mainly uses it as a side table, holding a can of Arboga lager, a GAIS football club mug, a packet of liver pâté, and some oranges in a ‘bowl’. Judging by the size of the bed, we reckon that the room is probably no more than five metres square.

“There’s a shower and toilet right next door, so it’s convenient,” says Uffe. However, the room is right next to the staircase leading to the upper floor, so he is often woken by footsteps at night.

We head to the kitchen, where there’s a fridge, a hob and a microwave available for use. So far, he hasn’t made use of this part of the hostel as he eats when he’s out and about. He likes to buy a salad at Hemköp and sit on a bench in Nordstan, where he also sells Faktum, and watch the world go by. He likes to be where there’s a buzz.

“What’s it like waking up here compared to your previous flat?” I ask.

“I’ve never been a materialistic person,” he says.

Three months earlier, 28 October 2025 – the flat

“Would you like anything?” Uffe asks me and photographer Katarina, pointing to an electric fire standing on the floor. “A rug, or some furniture?”

He’s had a tenancy agreement for almost 15 years, and you can tell that he’s lived here a long time. He was even the first tenant when the house was newly built. Although almost everything is packed away in bags or lying on the floor, it’s clear that they were once part of a well-furnished home. A porcelain elephant still stands on the shelf in the living room – a gift that he received 30 years ago – and the large plants are still in place next to the balcony. “I’ll probably have to throw them away,” he says.

Most of it has been given away, and Uffe is going to ask Östhjälpen Second Hand to collect the remaining furniture. “I started clearing out my things as soon as I found out I was going to be evicted. I’m thinking of renting a storage unit to keep the things that are important to me,” he says, having made “300 trips” to the “recycling room” where people can leave things for others to take. On the floor, there is an inflatable pool, which is also being given away.

Uffe shows us into his bedroom and opens the wardrobes, which are empty, though he has kept his winter clothes and towels. “I thought I’d leave the coat hangers; perhaps the next tenant will want them.”

Above the bed hangs a photograph of a woman sitting next to a dog on a cliff. “Last year, Max and I went swimming at Amundön. People thought he was a wolf,” he says, laughing.

The woman is his ex, Susanne, whom he was with for over 40 years. They lived here in this flat for a decade. “She slept on that side and I slept on this,” he says, pointing to the bed, “and this is where I had my fish tank, which I’ve had to get rid of now.”

Uffe and Susanne loved to travel, and Greece was their favourite destination. Their favourite island was Kos with its proximity to Turkey. “I worked as an operative at SKF (Swedish Ball Bearing Factory). I retired when I was 62 so that we could travel more, but it never happened. I lost out on a lot of my pension because of that.”

Another photo shows a baby. That’s their son, Richard.

There’s a packet of Sugar Buffs cereal sitting on the kitchen worktop, and Uffe explains that that’s why he’s called ‘Uffepuffe’. He’s loved Sugar Buffs for a long time, and he likes them best with milk. “By the way, would you like some ice cream?” he asks.

Every other day he eats vanilla ice cream with a squeeze of lemon and orange; the combination of tart and sweet is a favourite. In the freezer, alongside the ice cream, there are a few ready meals and flatbreads. He usually buys them when they’re on offer. And in the fridge, there are Swedish brown beans, black pudding and strong mustard. “I don’t dare keep too much in the fridge at the moment; I don’t want to have to throw food away.”

Since Uffe found himself on his own five years ago, he’s got better at cooking. He enjoys eating fish, with salmon and mackerel being two of his favourites, and he often has them with potatoes, peas or carrots.

“There should always be greens on your plate, and fish – which is healthier than meat – as it’s rich in omega-3 oils.”

“What will you do about food if you become homeless?” I ask.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a microwave so I can heat up food myself. I’m thinking of finding a hiding place where I can put it. There are power sockets pretty much everywhere,” he says.

“What actually happened? Why are you being evicted?”

“It all started with this robbery,” says Uffe.

It was on 4 April last year that the downward spiral began. His valuables were stolen, and the robbers managed to use his bank card to make purchases and withdraw cash before Uffe could block it. Some young people in Nordstan helped him to ring the bank, and Uffe then went to the police station to report the incident.

Afterwards, the police gave Uffe a lift home to his flat in Jonsered, but of course the keys were missing. Calling out a locksmith at the weekend cost several thousand kronor, and getting new keys wasn’t free either. It was difficult to make ends meet that month, so Uffe asked the landlord for a payment holiday so that he could pay the rent next month.

“I needed to get by and asked for a temporary solution, but they wouldn’t help me. Now I’m going to cost Partille Council more than if they’d been able to support me at the time. I got so angry when they wouldn't help me that I refused to pay the rent, and now it’s all come back to haunt me,” he says.

One thing led to another, and now the eviction papers are lying on the table in front of us. He has to have moved out of the flat in a month’s time.

“I’ll never get a flat again,” he says. “I’ve sort of been blacklisted by the Swedish Enforcement Authority. But I don't look too devastated, do I? I’m still myself. My mum taught me that money and material things aren’t the most important things. It’s about feeling good. She died in May 1999, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. I’ll never forget her.”

Uffe goes out onto the balcony to open the door and let in some fresh air. You can feel the cold setting in. One of the plants standing there is almost as tall as he is. That is his Gais plant. At first, I don’t understand what he means, but some of the leaves have been drawn on with a black felt-tip pen. The plant is green and black.

Uffe is undoubtedly a fan and goes to every match he can. GAIS sponsors Faktum vendors with tickets to home matches. Signs of his passion for the team can be seen all over the house. As well as the plant, there are embroidered patches, flags, clothes… Yet Uffe has given quite a lot away, he says.

Yesterday, the team won an important match. The one that qualified them for European football next season. “The match itself wasn’t particularly entertaining, but the result will go down in history,” explains Uffe.

Last night’s game is the reason he’s just woken up even though it’s 3 o’clock. He stayed out and celebrated at Stallet, where he was treated to beer after beer. He usually goes for a swim in the Säveån river when GAIS have won; evidence of this can occasionally be seen on his Facebook page, “Uffe-puffes Gaisgrupp”, where he has over 300 followers.

He has an old childhood friend to thank for his love of GAIS. His friend took him to a match when he was about 10 years old. It was a derby; they played against IFK Gothenburg and won. Uffe remembers the atmosphere and the green fireworks that went off when the ball hit the back of the net. He’s been hooked ever since. Now that they’re set to play further south in the not-too-distant future, he hopes to travel down to Europe to watch them win.

Among the things that he’s going to take with him is an axe, which he plans to use when he needs to sleep in the woods. The idea is to chop down a few branches and use them as a “mattress”.

“I’ve also ordered a sleeping bag that can withstand temperatures as low as -20 degrees, as I’m a little afraid of the cold. But I’d much rather sleep out in the great outdoors than in accommodation with lots of different people. It stresses me out.”

Hygiene is important to Uffe, and he believes that he should be able to keep his beard well-groomed in toilets that have mirrors. “I don’t want it to be obvious to others that I’m homeless, so I’ll look after myself. I’ll never get back the comforts I took for granted. At the moment, it's hard to know what will happen; we'll have to wait and see,” he says.

We leave the flat and Uffe takes us to a place where he’s thinking of staying at for a while. “It’s a rather overgrown and slippery path, but it smells lovely,” says Uffe. He used to walk here a lot in the past when he had a dog. He doesn’t have one at the moment, but he's happy to look after other people’s.

“Sorry, I’m a bit tired today,” says Uffe as the slope gets steeper and his pace slows. We pause and catch our breath. He wants to show us the fir trees that he thinks might provide good shelter from the rain and wind. Finally, Katarina takes his hand, and I give him a nudge from behind. It all ends with Uffe crawling on all fours to get higher up into the forest.

After a while, we decide not to go any further. Uffe leans against a beautiful oak tree and rests for a moment. “I think I’ll take back what I said about sleeping here. I won’t be able to cope with making my way up here,” says Uffe.

1 December 2025 – Faktum

“I’m free!” says Uffe.

It’s his first day without a place to call home. He’s been living with uncertainty for months: will he be evicted or allowed to stay? Now he won’t have to deal with awkward phone calls or unwanted post in his letterbox.

Over a cup of coffee and a slice of cake from Chapman’s bakery (they always give yesterday’s pastries to vendors), he chats with fellow Faktum vendor Jocke about potential accommodation. Jocke tells him about a room in the house where he lives, which costs 4,700 kronor (€528) per month. Uffe thinks that’s too expensive given his pension.

He used to live in a spacious two-bedroom flat with a balcony, a washing machine and a tumble dryer, for which he paid 9,700 kronor (€ 898) per month, electricity and hot water included. And he received a housing allowance, which is available to retirees on a low pension to enable them to continue living in their own home once they reach retirement age. But now that he no longer has a tenancy agreement, he no longer receives it.

Uffe tells us about a hiding place in a copse where he has left a few black bin bags containing things that he wants to keep. He holds a bag containing everything he needs to keep himself clean and his stomach contented. Here you’ll find a toothbrush, toothpaste, a razor and a towel. An alarm clock, a fork and a mug. Gingerbread biscuits, malt bread, liver pâté and mackerel in tomato sauce.

“I couldn’t live like that,” says Jocke, telling Uffe about the perk that Faktum vendors enjoy at Valhallabadet. They can shower and use the sauna there for free. Uffe has heard of it but has never made use of it. Not yet. “Where are you going to sleep tonight?”

“Well, it’s going to be exciting. I have my go-to spots. But worst-case scenario, there’s always the storeroom. I’ve kept my key fob so I can get in,” Uffe says.

“No way!” says Jocke.

2 December 2025 – Faktum

“Just think, I don’t live in a flat anymore – I live in the whole of Jonsered!”

Last night, Uffe slept in the bike shed where his bike is stored. He says it was freezing cold and that he was worried that the neighbours might come in. “Surely I still look reasonably okay, don’t I? I’ll never have my own flat again. It’s all over for me,” he says, and falls silent for a moment. “I’ll give it a year and see if I survive. I screwed up by not paying the rent, and in the end, it was me who suffered the consequences.”

9 December 2025 – Faktum

“I went to the social services office in Partille and they’ve agreed that I can stay at the Salvation Army accommodation in Lilla Bommen, until Monday. I explained to them that it’s very stressful not knowing how long I’ll be allowed to stay. What if they could let me stay until the end of the year?” Uffe says.

On his mobile, he shows me his room, which has a single bed and a large window. “You know, I was given the wrong key and went into the wrong room. Some of the people living on that floor are criminals. What if one of them had been there? On my floor, it’s mainly alcoholics, like me, and people experiencing homelessness.”

Every day, the residents are served three meals, as well as an evening snack. “My mum practically lives on that sort of food. What a treat!”

19 December 2025 – Faktum

I hear someone call out and look behind me. There’s Uffe sitting on a bench outside Faktum, waiting for us to open after the lunch break. “I’ve become homeless again today,” he says, with the bag containing his essentials in front of him.

Last night, Uffe spent his final authorised night at the Salvation Army’s accommodation, Lilla Bommen. He will miss the people he’s got to know there over the past two weeks. He’d hoped to stay over Christmas, or perhaps New Year. But that’s not how it turned out.

Uffe has just had lunch at Max. A woman came up to him and treated him to two burgers, just like that. “She must have realised I was homeless,” he says.

It’s unclear where he will sleep tonight.

Social services in Gothenburg have told him that he has to sort out his own accommodation, such as booking into a hostel. As financial assistance is intended as a last resort, Uffe must first use up his own money. His bank statements will then be checked to ensure that he has no savings left. Only when he can no longer support himself will he be entitled to assistance from social services.

But in that case, Uffe would rather sleep outdoors, or find another solution. He doesn’t understand how he’ll be able to buy food and survive if he ends up completely penniless.

Ideally, Uffe would like to find somewhere to live on his own so that he doesn’t have to deal with social services, but it’s not exactly easy. Not for a price that feels affordable. “A friend of mine has an allotment that might be just the thing,” says Uffe, who has also heard about a room in a commune in Örgryte.

“I suppose I’ll have to go to Jonsered tonight and sleep in the storeroom on pillows I’ve wrapped in black bin bags. It’ll all work out,” he says before leaving Chapman’s Square, clutching his ever-present shopping bag in his hand.

12 January 2026 – Faktum

It’s below freezing outside, traces of the snow that fell at the start of the year are still lying around, and Uffe is still looking for a permanent place to live.

“I don’t want to pay more than four to six thousand (€370-555) per month. I need to be able to pay for other things as well, like my mobile and stuff. My son has been a great help to me over Christmas and New Year. I'm so grateful! I’ve had to stay in hostels and hotels,” he says.

Suddenly he asks, “Have you seen my feet?” We reply in the negative, and Uffe unlaces his boots, which he wears without socks. It turns out that he’s got frostbite from the cold weather over the last few weeks, and socks just make it itch even more, he says. The skin around his shins is discoloured, and it doesn’t look good. We advise him to go immediately to the Health Centre for the Homeless or to the Gothenburg City Mission Health Centre.

15 January 2026 – Faktum

The Health Centre for the Homeless helped Uffe. He was given an ointment that has relieved the itching, and he has a doctor’s appointment booked in the next few days. Everything is free.

It’s Thursday, and his pension will arrive on Monday. He plans to spend the money securing a place to stay for a while. For the sake of warmth and a good night’s sleep, he’s going to check into the Linné Hostel. The idea is to empty his bank account and keep all the receipts. He has realised that the only way to get help finding a new home is through social services.

23 January 2026

It’s just after 1 o’clock when Uffe comes walking along with a bag in each hand. “I’m off to Valhalla this afternoon,” he says, holding up a red plastic bag containing swimming trunks, soap and a towel. “I’ve been thinking about it for ages, but now it’s finally going to happen.”

In the other bag, he has the things that have been his constant companions during his experience of homelessness. “I forgot my packet of Lingongrova rye bread that I always have,” he says, laughing. “In the article about me, you can write: ‘He forgot the most important thing for survival – food.’”

Uffe has been keeping receipts for everything over the last few weeks. Accommodation, food, toiletries and clothes. He’ll be left penniless. “I’ve always been happy, even when things were at their worst. I don’t feel sorry for myself.”

In front of the camera, he blows a kiss into thin air. “More kisses and fewer wars,” says Uffe, recounting a story about a woman he met the other day while selling Faktum. They’d been chatting about life and had a lovely conversation, and, incredibly, it turned out that she was a GAIS fan too. The meeting resulted in the woman getting Uffe’s contact details, and him getting a kiss. The hope that she’ll get in touch keeps him going.

We part ways and Uffe says what he so often says: “Bye bye. Take care, take care!”