Author: Pauline Campbell

Southern Cross Train Station Melbourne

Minding Miss Daisy Sleepover with the grandkids part 2

I arrived at the train station, out West, on a blustery Spring morning. It was blowing a gale out here as I awaited pick-up. I am minding Miss Daisy for the day, which includes the obligatory sleep-over. We will have the house to ourselves, until the siblings return from school, when the fun begins. The […]


A Tale of an Auction – final chapter – the Auction or whatever can go wrong will go wrong.

With the onset of Spring, flowering trees and newly budding shrubs and creepers in neighbouring yards and on back fences, began to bloom, spilling violet canopies over every nook and rickety fence, exuding blossomy smells which wafted across, mingling with the coffee and exotic spices from nearby restaurants. This added colour and interest from people strolling by, who paused to admire.


A Tale of an Auction – Open for inspection – The Advertising Campaign theirs and ours.

“ Open for inspection “. Think about it. Your home – is open – for inspection. For anybody. To inspect. They do not necessarily wish to buy it. In fact, in our experience this particular time, the majority of those ‘inspecting’ had no intention of buying. I know, because I was there – observing. It […]


A Tale of an Auction Chapter 3 – The Board

From the local agents. Who managed the property. The property where our board now hung, in all its glossy glory. The local agents we had rejected –for one NOT FROM THE AREA. in all the excitement of being involved and contributing, we had failed to note the FOR LEASE sign and the fact that the little tailor man WAS NOT THE OWNER of the building. There goes the non-presuming rule. Never presume! We had presumed he was. He was not! He rented the premises from the local agent – the one we had rejected – the one whose office was right next door.


A Tale of an Auction Chapter 2 The Agent

Details of the Carlton apartment, indicating our desire to sell were faxed to approximately 12 real estate agents. A few locals had already shown interest and these early appraisals fell well below our expectations. However, we were ready, had our fingers on the pulse. Research was conducted. We read all the property pages with gusto, attended a few auctions and were confident of a good outcome. After all, this was cosmopolitan Carlton, Little Italy, in the backyard of Lygon Street, with all amenities right at the doorstep. Buyers would be beating a path to our door.


A Tale of an Auction Chapter 1 The Dream

It is said that if you think very hard about something you want to happen, as if it has already happened, then it will surely come to be. It is said to be universal law.   Make sure you are careful what you concentrate on however, what you wish for, lest it is what you don’t want… […]

the world is not enough

The World is not enough Doing America.

Start spreading the news…….we’re leaving today…..we want to be a part of it .New York New York.. Yes. It was happening. We were going to America. Home of the brave. Land of the free. The United States, the old US of A! We just made up our minds …and created it. From scratch. From start […]


A creeping vine or how to upset the neighbours 2.5

The trades person arrived 2 days after we reported to Council our intentions to remove the small pile of vine cuttings from the laneway. Just as he was leaving with a small trailer load, to take away that dreaded vine, we chatted briefly. I jokingly mentioned how fortunate it was that he arrived so promptly, […]


A creeping vine or how to upset the neighbours 2

Three months after the big move, the Venetian door knocker returned. I had almost despaired of ever seeing it again. If or when we were to return to tour Venezia, it was doubtful that we would find that little man in his leather apron, in a back shop, hidden along the myriad of winding alleys, […]


The final rule of moving house how to upset the neighbours number 1

Our first Christmas in the house, I wrapped a couple of little puddings in tinsel, quite expensive little puddings and placed them carefully in boxes with coloured ribbons, handwriting “ Merry Christmas “ and their respective names on cards. Mr. G placed them gently in both letterboxes that night. Maybe not so gently he mentioned later. It was a peace offering and I thought it would go a small way to helping. Nothing was ever said about that gesture.