I remember designing my dream house way back in grade 3. It wasn’t meant to be a realistic place, which is what you’d kind of expect from asking…nine-year-olds. Mine was on an island, because, I loved pirates. We had to design our dream house in pairs, so I designed it with this other boy named Alec. I wasn’t a fan of his dinosaur robot room, but I was pretty happy with my pool-hammock-treehouse. The best part was a spring-loaded trap on the beach just outside the front door, for people we didn’t like. That would just spring them right off the island. The worst part was how I planned to lure Alex onto it so I could have the island all to myself, because I was a terrible child.
Fast forward a few years, and I can’t help but smirk as I search for conveyancing lawyers. My parents left me the house, and now that they wanted to move into a residential village they’ve asked me to sell it. I figured that a conveyancer would help with all the paperwork and complex terms or whatever, and it’s not like I’ve ever done something like this before. So yeah, that’s helping. But it’s pretty stark, the differences between real life and a child’s imagination. My parents never had a tree house, or a hammock, or a pool, or even a combination of all three. The conveyancers aren’t going to be handing me any forms that say ‘do you declare that your hidden trap door will not be a significant nuisance to the neighbours?’
Maybe I’m the crazy one for thinking like this, but not much I can do about that now. Man, that island was cool though…so much promise. If I ever become a theme park tycoon, I’ll definitely be creating something just like it, because they would flock to it on account of its awesomeness. And by that time, I’ll have a legion of Melbourne’s good conveyancing solicitors to make it all a reality. That’s how that works, probably…