Nothing better illustrates the truth in the statement that magically took Dorothy home in The Wizard of Oz than calling in to a few open homes.
After a pleasant lunch in the sun at Go Bang and a stroll around Jackson Street, a series of open homes presented themselves on the homeward journey. As anyone who knows me can attest, I'm seriously into things retro and kitsch. But there is retro-cool and retro-ohmygod. At one house, the combination of brown, wall to wall shag-pile carpet and the pervasive smell of damp mould was head spinning. I can almost understand living with renovation nightmares from the 70s and 80s (although when these are crimes against old villas the perpetrators should be shot) but how do people live in a musty atmosphere on a daily basis? One sniff and my head starts aching. Getting home was literally a breath of fresh air - be it ever so humble, there really is no place like home.
On another note, the short-lived Cupcakery has been replaced by a french-style crepe place. Looked and smelled good in passing. Like the name!
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