On Saturday afternoons it is fun to get all dressed up and pretend you're looking to buy an investment property. We hide Golden Boy down the street so they can't see what a heap of shit he is, then sashay over to some exhibition apartments and townhouses and look like two chicks with Serious Money.
It is actually a dream of ours to invest together. Our plan is always make sure we look after each other so we don't end up destitute like our parents. Also, as we get older, we can keep our money together so some bastard husband can't get his grubby paws on it. So when one of us gets divorced, we can hide their moula in the other sister's account. Yes, we're just a tad cynical.
Anyway, we would get something happening now except we don't have any money for a deposit. We've gone looking through the family tree and there's noone worth anything to us if they cark it. Basically we're on our own. So for now we have to play Fantasy Investors.
Rhiannon does the talking and I do the pacing around, peering at walls and windows as if I am doing some important mental calculations. Planting hands on hips adds to that pensive look. They ask us how much are we looking to spend, we say 350K or so, we're first time buyers, but we're all about location, baby. We tell them we're already renting in the neighbourhood and they start salivating and handing out business cards. We're all so very convincing until one of us accidentally blurts out, "Holy fucking SHIT look at the size of that master bedroom!"