There’s something quite exciting about house hunting.
The kids are growing like weeds and the flat is fast becoming too small.
My wife has switched from watching crime channels to the house renovations ones.
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Still, I have been slow (very slow, apparently) to get the hint.
Load shedding, water supply issues and the general summer heat have combined to ratchet frustration levels up to highs previously unheard of and now somewhat alarming.
So, out we went to have a look at a few houses.
One we looked at was most definitely a nature lover’s delight. The advert did not lie.
It was so overgrown and uninhabited that I half expected Indiana Jones to come charging out of the jungle with Dora the Explorer in tow.
I think part of the fun of house hunting is to experience something exciting and new. Like an angry goose.
My kids, only 7 and 5 years old, ran around a corner to the pool area, only to hit the skids, swivel round and come running back, yelling – the cause for the consternation a protective mother goose with a few goslings tumbling after her.
The estate agent did not miss a beat. “Geese make the best watchdogs,” she said.
It turned out there was a pond at the bottom of the garden the geese had claimed as their own.
It all added to the rustic/farm vibe the place had to offer, surprising as it’s in a popular leafy suburb.
I declined the offer to walk down to the pond. I noticed the lawn hadn’t been mowed since most South Coasters last wore a jersey.
The prospect of discovering a new species of serpent in the ankle high grass did not appeal to me, seeing as though I was wearing flip-flops.
In some way, the state of the house reminded me of our beloved country.
So much work to do, yet still so much potential.
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