In almost all matters to do with my first home in the country, I am shockingly ignorant. What are rates? What is that creature? The fence will cost how much?
It’s been more than 12 months now since I’ve moved from an apartment in Sydney to a cottage in the country on a largish piece of land. I am often not there because I am frightened of where I live. And I am frightened because I do not properly understand it.
Sydney I understand. You read the sea a certain way and know not to swim in the difficult currents, or the traffic lights where it’s OK to jaywalk or the bus stop where the least people will get on. Urban jungle stuff. But urban stuff doesn’t mean much in the country and the knowledge required to live in the country does not come with the land title.
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