Highland Park continues its tradition of putting out extraordinarily bad pieces of art to see what happens to them when they encounter the elements (today, cold; tomorrow, Flurries are promised, or threatened - though compared with England, one shouldn't complain). We were not walking around to see the latest art show, however, but scurrying away from this afternoon's Viewing - having left 113 picture-perfect. These days, our walks are punctuated by detours to look carefully, critically, anxiously, at other homes for sale (and then coming back and scrutinising their photographs on the web with a practised eye): not that there is a great deal to look at that's new each week, but we are greatly comforted by any sign of a house on the market with Obvious Defects. It's a reverse form of window shopping, or day dreaming. On the other hand, if we're hoping to attract buyers who ever would have created, or given house space, to this faintly late 1970s astral spiral, we're probably going about it the wrong way.
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