It was a good time to buy here in New Zealand, the housing market has been sort of in freefall for several months. A couple of Sundays ago, we wrote down the addresses of a few houses to look at (there is a continuous stream of open house activity on the weekends here), hopped on our bikes, and visited as many as we could. At one point we took a wrong turn and found a house that was for sale, but had no indication of open home activity. There was a lady in the front yard tending to the garden who turned out to be the owner, and she was actually getting ready for an (apparently unadvertised) open house showing at 1pm that day. So, we showed up and were the only ones there.
The house is a one-storey bungalow that was built sometime in the 1930s. It has four bedrooms, two in the older front part of the house and two (well, more like one and a half) in the newer addition at the back of the house. The inspection showed that it has been well cared for over the years and is in good condition. It faces northwest, which means the front of the house gets midday and afternoon sun. There is a two car garage in the back, and plenty of yard space for vegetable gardens. It's on a quiet street, sort of across from a park and a cemetery (so yeah, quiet neighbours too).
In other news, my grandmother turned 100 years old today. She was born in Aberdeen, Scotland and moved to Vancouver, Canada in 1911. It's amazing that she can still remember details of their trip to New Zealand nearly forty years ago, such as the names of obscure roads and towns and lakes. Although she physically has trouble getting around now, her mind is still sharp as a tack.
A couple of weeks ago, my other grandmother passed away quietly. Her health had been declining quickly after her husband's death earlier this year, so it was not unexpected. If it's at all possible to pick up the knitting gene from in-laws, that's where I'm going to claim Amy got it.