Sleaford Mods, one of my go-to bands, release a new album in March. The first song, and its great accompanying video, were released this week.

The Getaway - a city fled and a towering new skyline.

Things fall apart …

The Belle Park Meadows are a collection point for the abandoned detritus of lives gone off-track. This valise might just have easily have been on a train station’s platform, the engine steaming on to the next place. The truth is likely more sad.

In the mid-1970s, in the UK, there was a television show called Survivors, about a very small population that remains in the English countryside after an airborne virus reduces the world’s population by 99.98%.

Sometimes I can convince one of my kids to send me a photograph, and either I’ll use it at the top of this page or, as in this case, I’ll weave some small narrative around it. I like that we work together on these bits. It feels to me that we are unearthing some modest gems. This shot is one of Lucian’s, from just up the street.

We had no money, but came up with a story and a plan.

I don’t think anyone wakes up thinking, ‘What I’d really like is to end up a middle-aged real estate agent.’ And yet here I am.

I’ve tried frequently over the years to get the hang of meditation, I think it might help, and I’ll persist with that, but damn it’s not easy for me. What makes more sense (i.e. what’s easier) is to find stillness and even infinitesimally brief glimpses of peace in new music that resonates. It’s something I’ve learned about myself. And as often as not in these late pandemic times that seems to mean that I turn to Damien Jurado…

It’s the end of the world out there…

Until just a couple of months ago, and for at least the last two years, the listing price of a house only hinted in the most remote way at the amount it would actually sell for. Which is no damn good at all.

Sometimes it can be as simple as the way ice changes to water in a painted glass left in the sun.

The first stab at finding a way of coming to terms with memory loss, and dementia, in a parent.

A very short reminiscence on angling and dissolution.

List your house with us. If it doesn’t sell we’ll buy it.*

We’re seeing more of this sort of offer these days. Billboards bigger than Amherstview. And boy, it sound great, doesn’t it?

Well here’s some of the small print,

I despair regularly at the current state of the real estate market. Clients this week found a house they loved, and in the days leading up to the offer review they talked several times to their mortgage broker, and paced back and forth so much they likely wore a groove into the hardwood. We must have checked the math with them a dozen times. This was a momentous and difficult decision for them. They were likely equal parts excited and terrified.

Here’s a curious (terrible, horrible, no good, very bad?) fact:

Right now, it seems the best way for realtors in Ontario to obtain the possible highest sale price for a property is to underprice it, often dramatically. When you see houses sell for silly amounts over the asking price, this is a good part of the reason why. Here’s how it works.

A house in Kingston sold today for $550,000 over the asking price of $800,000. It’s the biggest difference we’ve seen between list price and sale price.

Mask mandates have been dropped, but should that mean that the business of real estate should follow suit? We don’t think so.

Another attempt to imagine what life might be like if things had played out just a little differently.