I know. They aren’t Easter lilies. I imagine there is no such thing. It’s a literal translation of the Swedish påsklilja. And there you might also find they flower round Easter. In England they are usually long gone by then.
Besides, my green fingers have never really stretched to daffodils. I plant them, and one or two feeble ones turn up one year, never to be seen again.
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Did I tell you about our tiny kitchen? We thought it was all right – apart from the cobwebs, the dust and the food stains – in its own modest way. However, all our prospective buyers looked at it and wanted it to be bigger. But you just don’t get farmhouse kitchens where the children can do their homework and get in your way, as you swig wine while making dinner, in Mancunian suburbia. For that price. Besides, if you did, the estate agent would have mentioned it.
As for ourselves, we obviously make perfect house viewers. We have read the description of what we are about to see, and if the kitchen looks a bit small, we are too polite to ask why it isn’t bigger. A person can adapt, can’t they?
One agent said about the house he showed us that other viewers complained that it’s ‘missing a bedroom’ upstairs. As if a bedroom could just up and leave. Again, if the description mentions two bedrooms upstairs, I’d say you’d be unlikely to find three.
Besides, after reading about houses online, I rebuild. So far I have rebuilt, extended or otherwise changed half the properties for sale in Stirling. In my mind. It’s very easy and it’s fun. There’s not even all that much dust once you’re done.
Cough. Ouch. Didn’t see that lintel there.
We are now halfway along in the famous Bookwitch relocation saga. We used the services of Snape, Defense Against the Dark Estate Agents…
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