A House Walk On The Wild Side
‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’
“Can I buy tickets here?”
Eh? What?
“Oh, yes, of course,” I snap to my senses, putting my book down.
“It’s five dollars to see just this house, or twenty for the whole tour.”
I’m sitting under an umbrella basking in the sunshine outside a Tuscan style mansion in downtown Naperville.
“We’ll take two of the tour tickets, please.”
“Righty O.”
Great. Back to my book.
“However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.“My dear Mr. Bennet,'' said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?''
Guess the housing market then was a little more buoyant than it is here in the U.S.
I’m interrupted again, this time by someone waving a ticket under my nose for me to cross off.
“There you go,” I smile, hardly lifting my eyes from my book. “Enjoy.”
It’s pretty easy, this volunteering lark. All I have to do is sit reading all afternoon while people file past to admire one of the houses in this year’s Live Downtown Naperville Custom Home Tour.
“My dear Mr. Bennet,'' said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?''
Drat. I’ve just read that bit. Where was I? Oh yes.
“Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.``But it is,'' returned she; ``for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.''Mr. Bennet made no answer.``Do not you want to know who has taken it?'' cried his wife impatiently.``You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.''This was invitation enough.”
“Hallo. Are you checking tickets?”
This is getting silly. How’s a girl to get into Pride and Prejudice with all these interruptions?
“Yes, yes. There you go,” I say, impatiently crossing off my house number on about six tickets being thrust under my nose all at the same time.
I return to my book, but this time I am distracted by something glinting in the sunlight.
What’s this? I pick up a small metal object with numbers on it. For a minute I think I should have brought The Da Vinci Code with me instead.
Drat! It’s the clicker, the one I’m supposed to use every time someone goes into the house.
I quickly press it a few times. That must be roughly it, I decide. Or maybe just a few more.
A tall blonde woman is approaching up the drive.
“Good afternoon, how are we doing?”
It’s the lady helping to co-ordinate the event, which a fund-raiser for the Naper Settlement and North Central College.
“Oh fine,” I say nonchalantly.
“How many have we had so far?” she asks.
I’ve been sitting here for half an hour now. I take a quick look at the clicker.
“18,457.”
“Good grief, are you sure?” she asks. “I know it’s a nice day, but it seems a bit unlikely.”
Luckily I’m taken off the spot by three families marching towards me at the same time.
I start clicking.
“Sorry, can’t chat, work to do,” I mumble.
Two hours later things have slowed down considerably. In fact they’re so slow, they’ve ground to a halt.
I look across the street and notice jealously than two children running a lemonade stand are doing a brisker trade than I am. Then I see another customer advancing in my direction.
“Hallo, is this the stop providing bruschettas?” she asks.
“Er no, but I have a banana in my purse if you’d like,” I reply, confused.
“Just joking,” she smiles.
Back to my book.
“Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three and twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper.”
Hmm. Now I’ve missed a bit. Bother. Fed up, I put the book down and decide to ring Grumpy, volunteering at another house on the route.
“So, how many have you had through?” I can see him sneering down his cell phone. “I’ve done 287 so far and there’s still an hour left.”
“Well I’ve done..” I stop to look at the clicker. “19,231.”
No harm in a little exaggeration. I’d have no column if I didn’t do that just occasionally.
“Can I buy tickets here?”
Eh? What?
“Oh, yes, of course,” I snap to my senses, putting my book down.
“It’s five dollars to see just this house, or twenty for the whole tour.”
I’m sitting under an umbrella basking in the sunshine outside a Tuscan style mansion in downtown Naperville.
“We’ll take two of the tour tickets, please.”
“Righty O.”
Great. Back to my book.
“However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.“My dear Mr. Bennet,'' said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?''
Guess the housing market then was a little more buoyant than it is here in the U.S.
I’m interrupted again, this time by someone waving a ticket under my nose for me to cross off.
“There you go,” I smile, hardly lifting my eyes from my book. “Enjoy.”
It’s pretty easy, this volunteering lark. All I have to do is sit reading all afternoon while people file past to admire one of the houses in this year’s Live Downtown Naperville Custom Home Tour.
“My dear Mr. Bennet,'' said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?''
Drat. I’ve just read that bit. Where was I? Oh yes.
“Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.``But it is,'' returned she; ``for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.''Mr. Bennet made no answer.``Do not you want to know who has taken it?'' cried his wife impatiently.``You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.''This was invitation enough.”
“Hallo. Are you checking tickets?”
This is getting silly. How’s a girl to get into Pride and Prejudice with all these interruptions?
“Yes, yes. There you go,” I say, impatiently crossing off my house number on about six tickets being thrust under my nose all at the same time.
I return to my book, but this time I am distracted by something glinting in the sunlight.
What’s this? I pick up a small metal object with numbers on it. For a minute I think I should have brought The Da Vinci Code with me instead.
Drat! It’s the clicker, the one I’m supposed to use every time someone goes into the house.
I quickly press it a few times. That must be roughly it, I decide. Or maybe just a few more.
A tall blonde woman is approaching up the drive.
“Good afternoon, how are we doing?”
It’s the lady helping to co-ordinate the event, which a fund-raiser for the Naper Settlement and North Central College.
“Oh fine,” I say nonchalantly.
“How many have we had so far?” she asks.
I’ve been sitting here for half an hour now. I take a quick look at the clicker.
“18,457.”
“Good grief, are you sure?” she asks. “I know it’s a nice day, but it seems a bit unlikely.”
Luckily I’m taken off the spot by three families marching towards me at the same time.
I start clicking.
“Sorry, can’t chat, work to do,” I mumble.
Two hours later things have slowed down considerably. In fact they’re so slow, they’ve ground to a halt.
I look across the street and notice jealously than two children running a lemonade stand are doing a brisker trade than I am. Then I see another customer advancing in my direction.
“Hallo, is this the stop providing bruschettas?” she asks.
“Er no, but I have a banana in my purse if you’d like,” I reply, confused.
“Just joking,” she smiles.
Back to my book.
“Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three and twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper.”
Hmm. Now I’ve missed a bit. Bother. Fed up, I put the book down and decide to ring Grumpy, volunteering at another house on the route.
“So, how many have you had through?” I can see him sneering down his cell phone. “I’ve done 287 so far and there’s still an hour left.”
“Well I’ve done..” I stop to look at the clicker. “19,231.”
No harm in a little exaggeration. I’d have no column if I didn’t do that just occasionally.
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