Monday, April 27, 2020

ROBBLOG#835- Liz Can Do It


So I was watching a 2019 Spiderman Movie.

I was longing for the days when "Spidey" swung from building to building in a hot, sticky, concrete jungle. He'd swing from brownstone to skyscraper to brownstone much like a mostly naked and extremely muscular Tarzan would swing from huge vines in the lush, hot African Jungle.

Muscular is not our Spiderman.
Lithe maybe but not beefy.
How old is the kid in this version- 12?

Anyhoo, as I was watching my mind drifted. This 2019 Peter Parker was all about green screens and special effects galore and after a while it was a yawn fest- except for Jake Gyllenhall- late of Brokeback Mountain. Now there was a "action" movie. Yup, it took place on a mountain, with snow, and a tent but I don't think there were many special effects involved in that storyline.
Just a couple of manly men having a gritty go.

So, my mind drifted what with all the bad guys trying to conquer the world and Spiderman doing his best to fight back.
I thought- "What if this current Covid- 19 is a world-wide plot?"
I know there are conspiracy theories out there and they are reported on by reputable newspapers like the Sun chain but look really what if?
By the way, I haven't read one published theory so what you are about to hear is of my own making.
I know, you find that hard to believe...

Who me? Save the world you say?
...All right then!
We've all heard of "germ warfare".
Well, maybe this is the real thing.
Maybe some bad guy somewhere in the world- and there are many, got a hold of some covid-19 from a petrie dish and made a whole bunch more and started to blow it around through air vents in buildings or injecting it into animals that humans consume.
What if?
We've all read that there was a super, top secret, lab up the street where the people of Wuhan bought their groceries. Haven't we all read that this lab had covid-19? I've seen a ton of Mission Impossible movies and I know for a fact that these labs can be broken into.
I mean Tom Cruise did it all the time.

So, someone sneaks in one of these labs, grabs a few dishes and Bob's Your Uncle it become a world-wide epidemic.
People become prisoners in their own homes.
World-wide travel is shut down.
People die.
People get sick.
Countries- like Canada, close borders.
Andrew Scheer remains an asshole.
Surgical masks are in short supply as are ventilators.

Our food chain is not affected but for Gawd's Sake- people can't surf!
Men can't dribble basketballs.
Oh the inhumanity!
Theatres close.
Movies aren't made.
TV neither- except Lisa LaGlam still reports CTV News faithfully every weeknight.
Look, don't you think if there was a God, she's be nipping this in the bud PDQ?

So this covid creeps around the world infecting every country- except for maybe somewhere in deep, dark Africa, South America or our North Pole.
Yes Kids,
Santa is safe from covid and continues to make toys daily.

We are all so busy trying to physical distance that we don't take the time to blame some "monster" from a foreign country having the power to make the entire world sick and feeble, killing thousands.
It is truly like a bad movie made in the Czech Republic starring every B grade European actor you can name- well not name of course because we don't know of any.
Then, there'll be one American lead actor wrapped in the flag that no one has ever heard of or wants to hear of.

I think it's time we had a look around.
We'd better get Spiderman, Deadpool, Captain Canuk and Cesspool to get to the bottom of this because Prime Minister Trudeau and PM Boris Johnson can't do it on their own- let alone hoping Her Majesty will pull out all the stops, thrown a sparkly Crown on her royal head and start naming names.
I mean of all heads of state, we'd surly listen to her.
Well, She knows James Bond personally- She's parachuted with him for goodness sake, and She'd get to the bottom of this Pandemic.

Now, I am NOT saying that all or any of this musing is true but you've got to admit there are enough "nutters" in this world to orchestrate such a heinous plot to conquer or destroy our world.

So think about it and keep your eyes and ears open.
We stay vigilant for the True North Strong and Free
and what the hell- all of mankind.

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

ROBBLOG #834- Abbey Road


I do lead an exciting life you know...

No. I mean it.
Really.
Take today.
Our mini-schnauzer Koko jumps up on my lap- wait, it gets better than that,
she jumps up on my lap as I was sat in front of the huge monitor screen watching a "live cam" from London- England.
It gets better...

The cam was focused on the crosswalk in front of the famous Abbey Road Studios where the Beatles recorded in their final years. Unless you've been off the planet, you'll know that photo is pretty iconic.
I have been at the crossing a few times in person because it is in St. John's Wood where we stay while in London, I also keep watch from time to time through the webcam. It's fun to see tourists hold up traffic while they mimic the Fab Four's walk across the painted pavement.
Some even know of the cam's existence. They look up and make faces at the camera or call a friend on their mobile and wave when the friend brings up the "live cam" on their home computer.
I've seen people do this in Waikiki too. A webcam is bracketed on a pole just off the beach near a Honolulu Police "Beach" station. You might find that interesting if you search for it.
The things we do as tourists, eh?

Some days the London sidewalks near the crossing are absolutely packed. The nights can be busy too and even at midnight the odd tourist has a look at what once was. Like most famous spots when you're actually standing there it's hard to believe that this is the actual place you've seen in photos. The front facade of the recording studio is out of camera range but it's to the bottom right. You can see the white-washed pillars and wrought iron gate.

People scrawl "I love you Paul" or "Beatles Forever" all over the walls and every now and then they get a fresh coat of paint so the process can begin all over again.

Abbey Road is the building in the centre. The cross walk
is in the middle of the photo.
The street that exits the scene at the top left is the sidewalk that takes you to the St. John's Wood  tube station and the village of St. John's Wood. A Beatles souvenir shop is at the right of the entrance to the tube.
I have never been inside. I window shop and that's all.

St. John's Wood is a cute, well-kept, bustling village within Westminster where I could easily have a flat of my own instead of paying the Danubius Hotel's inflated rates two blocks away.
I say easy.
Easy if one had up to a million bucks to afford a flat of well under 1000 square feet.
We've looked at the photos in estate agent's windows.
Yikes!

As an aside, a couple of years ago as The Mister and I were waiting at a cross walk in St. John's Wood, a flying fleet of motorbikes came around the corner right past us only a few inches under our nose.
Then a black limo.
We both cried out at the same time- It's Camilla!"
It was too.
Probably going to cut a ribbon at a Sainsbury's supermarket opening.
Royals do that- don't they?

While watching the "live cam" with Koko, I noted how amazingly quiet this corner is within a covid world.

Usually, the street is busy with traffic- if not pedestrians.
You can pick out the locals.
They just walk from point A to B, cross the street and proceed to C.
Tourists are oblivious to the red double decker buses, London cabs, motorbikes, bicycles and cars that whiz through the intersection and over the cross walk- even at the late, witching hour of midnight.

When I feel the need to see London, I check out this cam.
I remember how it feels to be standing there and I know what the neighbourhood and studio facade looks like. They are out of camera view.
It's a mini-vacation for me.
Even Koko watched a noisy motorcycle rip up the street and around the corner out of sight.
A window on a small part of London.

If you want to have a look see for yourself just Google- Abbey Road Crossing Cam.
It'll be a quick trip across the pond and you don't even need a passport-
or a face mask.

Monday, April 20, 2020

ROBBLOG #833-What's That Now?


Cripes! History can repeat itself- sort of...

More on that in a moment.
First, if you have been trying to comment on my blog of late, it's futile.
The comment section is non-operational.
It's closed.
It's dead like Monty Python's parrot.
It has stopped breathing.
It is no more.
Write a note on a scrap of vellum, stick it in a bottle and send it out to sea.

Anyhoo...
Good old history.
We may go for a repeat.
The Mister and I want to find out just how much our Island property is worth. I mean investment-wise as in "investing in a new property".
I hear you- What's that now?

This may be a shot in the dark but circumstances have lead us in this general direction.
Things change.
Times change.
Attitudes change.
People change.
Assholes test us.
I am much too old to be tested and quite frankly, I don't have the time.

We've been waiting and hoping this covid thing would be finished before we made a move to have an evaluation done. It has also taken considerable chatting, talking, argumentative moments and threats but I think we are going to give it a whirl to evaluate what we have- if anything.

As for this covid thing here in British Columbia and certainly on Vancouver Island, it has flattened but some people got a different memo. On Saturday there were way too many people on sidewalks and trails walking and biking, not giving way as if it were a new world believing the old "new" one had crumbled. However, it's not a new new world yet and it's unlikely to be so soon-despite what some crackpots are saying in the media.

Anyway, I am reminded of a few years back when we asked agents to give us an idea of our property's worth. It didn't exactly work.
In the end we marketed and sold our house ourselves and sold it for more than 150 thousand dollars over the price that had been suggested by the professionals. In hindsight we should have gone another 30 thousand over our list price.
One learns but we did save massive fees and that helped us sail west.


We have seen some marvellous neighbourhoods here in the Cowichan over the past three years and in the past couple of weeks another half dozen more we didn't even know existed. When we took our first trip here to scout around and actually buy a property, we should have been more thorough.
A week of time and a guide to show us around would have been the ticket.

I would suggest to anyone reading this blog who is planning on escaping eastern "winters" for western Mediterranean winters, a good bit of looking around should be a prerequisite
I thought I had done my homework- keeping in mind that prices were ridiculous three years back. Not that they are totally better today but there is some wiggle room.
Unfortunately, a shack with two bedrooms and one bath can still run you over a million dollars and there is a selection of shacks to be had if you have "shack" interest.
We don't.
Although, if this current house has made us some cash we would look for our next home in a "mature" neighbourhood.

Mature means 25 years of aging.
Like a pretty good red wine.
Big trees.
Full shrubs.
A real neighbourhood feel like we had back in Ontario, only with a partial ocean or mountain view.

As this new neighbourhood of ours has grown, so has other "difficulties".
Lack of privacy is a major one.
Everyone is bunched up tight. You walk out into your back yard and 15 other homeowners share your experience.

Busybodies.
Oh yes, we have them here on the Island too.
Watching you from the deep, dark recesses of their garage.
Pretending to weed a garden all the while watching your every move.
By the way, the garden is all stone.

Comments and questions abound.
Did you put in a security system.
What for?
~disappointed look that they weren't asked first~
Why are you planting that? What for?
~disappointed look that they weren't asked first~
Is Arnold shacking up with Sally?
~disappointed look that you didn't have the answer they were looking for~

Anyway, it continues.
So, we move forward.
If it looks like an opportunity exists, we'll leave.

Stand by...
Oh and start to save your boxes for us.

Sunday, April 12, 2020

ROBBLOG #832- A Poke and a Prod



Aliens visited me the other night- AGAIN!

It hasn’t happened in a few years but they’ve found me here on the Island.
Damn!

On previous visits up there, I have found myself sucked upwards in a big tube, through the stratosphere, past the stars into their enormous spaceship hovering high in the heavens.
You could probably see the ship with a dollar store pair of binoculars if you are so inclined.

Once they had me on board, they strip me naked, tied me to an operating table where they performed all types of sordid medical experiments like measuring my flaccid penis.
You know…things like that.
Sometimes, they’ve shown me photos of a speedo-clad Hugh Jackman and my penis…
~Ahem~
Well, you get the picture.

I know these experiments take place because I find little marks on my arms or a scratch on the top of my head. Sometimes, in the deepest recesses of my brain, I hear distant laughter and guffaws. Usually once I return back home.

For weeks afterwards I can feel a small hole on the top of my head. That’s where the green people- well of course they’re green, insert a probe- right through the top of my head. The probe is hooked up to this big machine that goes “ping”. At times they even insert the probe through the tip of my pen…okay, nevermind.
You get the picture- don’t you?

I have known since I was a teenager that aliens stuck things inside me. Of course, I’m certainly not the only one who gets swept away in a silver spaceship to do a few loops of the outer stratosphere while these experiments take place on my body.I am not at the liberty to divulge names but believe me there are other earthlings who are experimented on.
Like maybe Ryan Reynolds- one would hope.
Did I mention I am naked during these tests?
I did?
Well then, you get the picture.

It’s rather an honour when one thinks of it. Being whisked away into the wild blue yonder to have strangers’ probe one this way and that.
I wonder if they take photos?
I am sure they do.
I mean I would if I had the opportunity and of course if I could plainly see that Hugh Jackman was stretched out stark naked on a cold steel table before me.
I mean who the hell wouldn’t snap a few quick ones and measure a foreskin.
What’s that you say?
Maybe not the foreskin part?
Oh well, suit yourself.
Each to his own.
When you stop and think about it, when the Holy Mother ascended into Heaven, it was most likely a beam from a hovering spaceship that sucked her right up out of sight.  Why, the remaining disciples and those seated on the ground were probably enjoying an afternoon picnic of sliced meats, fresh bread, olives and red wine and would have seen the holy smoke shooting out of her arsehole across the azure blue sky.
Maybe yes.
Maybe no.
You have your beliefs. I have my sordid nightmares and random alien kidnappings.

Many people keep these journeys to themselves but I have written about such travels in these very RobBlogs.
Why keep them quiet?
Most people believe me to be a few bricks short of a complete load anyhow.

Now, Alien adventures can be divided into several parts or “kinds”.

The first kind is when you see one flying low in the sky.

The second kind is when you perchance to see one land in a solitary farmers field round about midnight and after you and the friends accompanying you have feasted on vodka shots the past three hours.

The Third kind is when the door to the landed craft opens and you shit yourself when an “alien being” waves to you and beckons you to come forward.

The last being the Fourth Kind- if you’ve been keeping count, is being abducted and taken up into a spacecraft for experimental purposes

Now that might make you weep.
It might make you shake with fear or it might make you just a little bit horny- especially if the vodka has kicked in.

Somehow, being probed and pinched and poked and laughed at makes you feel a part of something much bigger.
A bigger plan if you will.
I know I feel bigger and more important every time I get swooshed skywards.
I mean what if the green, touchy-feeling beings are working on a cure for human cancer or covid-19?

I mean certainly that’s worth letting them have a juggle or two of the boys if it helps mankind.
Maybe the cure is in the “curious” weight?
I do not know for I am NOT a Doctor or Nurse and I am quite sure these creatures have diplomas hanging in their quarters on board ship that gives them every right to do what they do.

While on the subject, if I were a guest on a craft with others who have been swooped up- like Mr. Jackman, what kind of a human would I be to refuse a peek at Mr. Jackman’s manly bits- either in person or via a 3D, Holographic image.
Oh, didn’t I mention these folks have the art of the Hologram image pretty well perfect?
Well, they do and that’s that.

To make all this extra-terrestrial thing easier for you mere humans to understand and digest, perhaps I will print a story of such an encounter from a few years ago.

I will of course change the names to protect the innocent.

You don’t want people’s names being strewn through the press and online sites millions of light metres away- do you?
Of course not…

Thursday, April 9, 2020

ROBBLOG #831- Sloppy Easter


I must be getting lazy these days.

I means besides waiting around to die from the "Toyota Corolla" virus what else is there to do?
Not much.
It does give one the opportunity to pause and reflect.
So, I did that.
I was thinking about all those Men and Women who died in WWI.
Where was this "God" in Heaven.

WWII comes along and millions of men and women are killed while in service to their country.
Gays (who were made to wear a pink star), Lesbians too, the disabled and millions of Jews were incarcerated and gassed in camps in Germany and Poland.
Where was this "God in Heaven".
Don't tell me "he" has a plan because if "he or she" did he or she would be real and not an imaginary figure.

Let's not forget The Spanish Flu and any number of other sicknesses that happened around the world.Then this current pandemic.
Where was, where is this "God" in Heaven.

Again, some say it's a plan- his plan, he's waiting. Why that Orthdox Jew in Israel who is head of  the"health" department is waiting. He blames this Pandemic of covid-19 on the Gays. He says it's God's way of making human's pay for the curse of being Gay or Lesbian or Trans or, or, or....
Don't even get him started on Gay Weddings.
He is waiting for the Messiah to come. And soon.

Now, we've proclaimed the Easter Bunny to be an essential service. My Goodness, the Christians must be pissed that the "Bunny" gets a mention- an exclution and NOT The Christ.
Jesus!!
What a world eh?

Anyhoo, I have a little verse or two to repeat here. It's from my "Book of Stories" called-
The Gospel of Rob.
Okay. I just made that up...
Flip to Chapter 3, Verses 1 through 56.
Then, read at your leisure...



Happy Easter Everyone... and I mean that in the secular, non-religious way.

You know, Easter Bunnies, Easter Eggs, Colourful Easter Baskets. The way Easter was meant to be.
Maybe you buy a new shirt.
A new pair of pants.
A chic little, black, cocktail dress and a huge hat festooned with ribbons and pearls which you proudly wear while strolling down the avenue arm-in-arm with Fred Astaire.
Peeping, yellow Chicks and chocolate and sunny, spring days and chocolate.

Then, there's the other less popular Easter Story that scares small children and adults half to death for the rest of their lives- when they buy into it.

That other less happy-go-lucky yarn concerns a youngish Jewish man who lives with 12 other men and a Hag called Mary. They skip around the Judean countryside in little more than rough, cottony shift dresses- cinched at the waste with rope, all the while charming all the little old ladies and men by turning water into wine.
THE best party trick of all!

The story turns into a horror show however- like Carrie, with the young Jew nailed up to a tree of sorts by bad men who speak Latin but have indoor plumbing and slaves to cater to their every whim.

A gruesome death follows for the handsome- unmarried Jew. His parents- by the way, are sick about the fact their son is in his early thirties and not married. Even Aunt Sophie asks him every Christmas and Easter- "So, Jesus Christ do you have a girlfriend already?"

Back to the story...

A couple of days pass. The body rots and smells something terrific inside a tomb yet- miraculously, the stone covering the entrance rolls away and the young Jew rises up. He steps outside the tomb into the brilliant morning sunshine, sees his shadow and waits a few more weeks for Judean Spring to come.


Pass the chocolate Easter Eggs please.

Monday, April 6, 2020

ROBBLOG #830- F, M & F


And now a tale of Bunnies and Easter first published almost 10 years ago...


Flopsy, Mopsy…and Florence were three of the cutest little bunnies you would ever want to lay your eyes upon.

They were so glad it was finally spring!
The days were warm.
They loved to tumble and nibble on the fresh, green grass that covered the big field next to their log home like a fluffy comforter on a big, brass bed.
The grass tasted oh so sweet.
However, the greens in Mr. Alabaster’s garden were even sweeter- especially in the spring, just as the first few sprouts of lettuce popped out of the warm earth on a warm sunny day.

The bunnies weren’t thinking about Mr. Alabaster’s garden at this particular moment. Flopsy was sitting next to a big, gray boulder grooming her white fur. Mopsy and Florence meanwhile amused themselves trying to do headstands in the tall grass. They tried and tried but fell over with every attempt giggling and snickering louder each time. Their bunny laughter is contagious. A few chicadees in a tree near the boulder chirped merrily too at the funny goings-on below.

“Come on you two”- cried Flopsy. She had finished her grooming. “Let’s run all the way down to the old cedar fence!”

“Okay Flopsy. Bet I can beat you!”- Mopsy squealed and she was off like a shot.

“Running. Always running!” Florence stood with her paws on her hips tapping her right paw gently on the green grass. “Really you two!” She was raising her voice now since her brother and sister were half-way across the field.

Flopsy and Mopsy soon reached the cedar fence. Flopsy was just a hare ahead of Mopsy.
They both collapsed in a heap near one of the cedar fence posts.

“Honestly, you two. Get a life. Both of you.” Florence had hopped on down to the fence. She seemed a little upset.

“What’s the prob Flo?” It was Mopsy who dared even ask the question.

Florence had placed a paw on each of her furry hips once again-
“Look, it’s just that there are more interesting things to do you two.”

“Like what?”- asked Flopsy.

“Well…” Florence thought for a moment. “Like thinking about what are we going to do for Easter. We haven’t even looked for a present for Mumsy and Dadsy yet.”

“Awwww. Get ‘em some chocolate eggs. They’ll be happy with that.” It was Mopsy who spoke and suggested the idea.

Flopsy snapped a paw and added- “That’s a good idea and we can place them in a nice basket filled with fresh grass and tie a big pink bow on top and ohhhh…we can tuck a Michael Buble CD in the basket too!”

Florence and Mopsy looked at Flopsy. They stared for a couple of seconds, then looked back at each other again. Their little bunny noses twitching. Finally, they turned back, looking Flopsy right in the eye and speaking in unison said-

“That is so Gay!”

The End

Friday, April 3, 2020

ROBBLOG #829- I Felt I had To Write


I felt I had to write something.

I'm celebrating a milestone of sorts. A milestone that I didn't reach by myself.
You see thirty-five years ago on April 4th 1985, I found myself on a flight to Honolulu.
There's a lot more to the back story but after 35 years, I think I can tell it without all the crap that was happening in my life at the time.

No, suffice to say it was three decades and five years ago that I met The Mister on a flight.
A Wardair flight to Honolulu, Hawaii.
That day, sitting at an exit door in row 9 on the right-hand side of the aircraft, my fate was sealed.
I met my sole mate.
I met the one person that I was destined to spend the rest of my life with- these past 35 years in particular.

Neither of us had any idea at the time that this was going to be a long-term relationship. It seems incredibly hard to believe that it is now thirty-five years later. From a man in his early thirties I now sit at this keyboard as a Senior Citizen.
My husband is also a Senior Citizen- although a few years less senior.
No, I didn't rob the playpen.

Oh. My. Gawd.
How in the fuck did that happen?
Thirty-five years in a snap. I'm clutching my pearls!
Thinking not so much that I got old but that we've held this "love fest" together for all those years.

From that Wardair flight to our first breakfast on Waikiki Beach at the Royal Hawaiian- and not alone I might add, for we were chaperoned.
At least "chaperoned" is what I am going to call it for the purpose of this Blog.

What can I say? 35 years ago on
The Royal Hawaiian Hotel steps. Those impressive legs!
For those straight folks reading today, a Gay couple usually bases the start of the length of a relationship on the first day of their meeting.
For us that's April 4th, 1985.
We did get married- on that same date in 2006, when it became legal for us homosexuals to do what so many other couples have done for centuries.
By the way, the sky didn't fall and it still hasn't.
Society didn't fall apart and if society has a bit, it has noting to do with the Gays and the rest of the LGBTQ2+ folks.

Anyhoo, it took three months to get my ducks in a row and The Mister- who I'll call Tom from hereon in because that's his name, to get used to the idea that he was wasn't going to be living alone for the foreseeable future.
That foreseeable part is still ongoing.
I dissolved my household.
He re-arranged his.

A few years after we began to co-habit, we bought our Mississauga, Ontario house- together. We lived in that new house for five years and then decided to move north to Central Ontario- Orillia to be precise, where we bought an 1882 Victoria Home.
That lasted 25 years.
To finish off this adventure in moving, we turned our lives upside down in 2017 and moved a few thousand miles west to Vancouver Island- the Cowichan Valley- Canada's only Mediterranean climate zone, to be precise.

Here, we have been putting down new roots for the past three years.
Three years come August although our first adventure on this Island to have a look see was three years ago B.C. this past February.
That B.C does not stand for British Columbia but "before corona".

I certainly don't have time to regale you with all we've done these 35 years.
We have travelled to many countries.
We have made tons of friends.
Our parents have passed on- as have some of those friends I referred to in the line above.
We've had a plethora of pets that we miss dearly and will never forget.
Currently we have a mini-schnauzer "Koko" and an orange and white tabby- "Dickens".

At thirty-five years- and I'll speak for Tom here as well, our lives are pretty complete. We usually do what we want to do in regards to travel and buying "things".
I love buying "things" and I love being in Paris and London- not to forget Honolulu where it all began.

In fact, we would be there now, in Honolulu, celebrating this milestone of an anniversary but with this Pandemic around the world we find ourselves grounded and housebound like all Canadians.
We did go for a quick shop today and bought two dozen roses in celebration of our anniverasry that I've artfully arranged in two vases.
So, Happy 35th Anniversary to us!

For this April 4th there's-
No dinner out.
No celebrating with friends.
No Hawaiian breezes.
This year we have none of those things-

BUT,
We still have the love of each other and virus or not, that's enough.

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

ROBBLOG #828- Home Sweet Home- or not?


Okay. Now hold on! Don't start the rumour mill churning just yet.

Yesterday, The Mister and I went for a drive up island.
We had a purpose in mind.
I was clutching two small sheets of paper on which were written a half dozen addresses.
No, we weren't going visiting in this time of pandemic.

We had a purposeful reason to drive up island and take two sheets of addressed paper with us.
I have been looking at real estate during these "troubled times".
Why?
Well basically, we'd just like to have an ocean view.

When we first moved to the island almost three years ago, many folks asked us if we had an ocean view. No, but I'd excitedly add- "We have a mountain view!"
They didn't seem to care.
Ocean trumps mountain I guess.

Anyhoo, I had written down six addresses of homes currently on the market.
I looked at photos of interiors while online.
I knew what we wanted. These six were passable and in some ways, close to what we had now.
I also looked at front and back yards.We wanted more space between neighbours plus a proper street distance.

We didn't want gravel and stones. Here on the island people who don't want to cut grass or install an underground watering system opt for rocks.
Massive amounts of rock and gravel of varying sizes.
Nothing detracts from the street appeal of a home more than grey stones.
A lawn of green grass- real or artificial, sets off a home's curb appeal. The house looks
better. Friendlier.
I guess that's the Ontarian in me.Think green.
Many British Columbians choose cold, oppressive stone.


So we saw three homes in Chemainus, three in Ladysmith- one was actually Saltair but close enough to Ladysmith.
Prices varied.
Now, back in Ontario if a house and property were not cared for- a dump in other words, the price reflected that fact.
Here on the Island a Bette Davis "dump" can be upwards of 500 to 600 thousand. Sometimes what looks promising in an online photo collage looks dreadful and messy when you pull up streetside.
One feels like marching up to the front door and saying- "Really? I mean really?- $500,000 for this?

We did see a couple of homes that looked promising- one with an ocean and a mountain view where yesterday there was snow on the peaks. Our favourite was truly beautiful.
It sat up high on a rocky outcrop.
Massive ocean views.
Three balconies- lanais, to take in the view.
Double Car garage.
A nice interior with enough bedrooms and baths.
It would be considered the very top end of our budget- if we had one.
The whole neighbourhood was well-cared for. Clean streets with centre boulevards and a couple of minutes drive to shops in Ladysmith.

Driving up island gave us something to think about.

I look back on our very first trip to the Island three years ago and remember not knowing our way around. We perhaps made a hasty choice on a location for our home.
Now, I love the fact we built a custom home with all the features we asked for.
Our gardens have exploded the past almost three years and that is lovely.
Weather in the Cowichan is better than anywhere else in Canada and that's a fact!
We also don't have a lot of breathing space- that's also a fact.
Living near six tribes is also a fact.

I hear you asking- Knowing this area of the Island better now would we have made a different choice?
I think so.
The Ocean View is the best and two of the houses we viewed yesterday ticked that box more than once.

So what now?
I have no fucking idea...