The outdoor/indoor haven has simply grown there! There is garden incense, little bird ornaments, a calming ambience and room on the little table for a cooling beverage. I can hear the ice cubes clinking. The umbrella has no purpose – it is for effect only as I sit here, book in hand, thankful I have a break from tours whilst admiring the bird bath and sweating in the tropical-like heat.
At home, I gazed with growing horror, at the red, raised, angry looking rash still erupting over areas of my body. Legs, arms, shoulder, wherever those gorgeous lotions of the Gods had touched. A more unsettling feeling added to my anxiety as I read the label of the cream she had recommended. Underneath the advice – “ kills germs, numbs local pain, eases swelling and redness (so far so good ), soothes the affected area ‘ was this gem.
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...
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.
“ 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...
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.
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.