One winning ticket please

WE fell for it again on the weekend. Our Sunday drive took us past a sign for a prize home and like moths to the flame we couldn’t resist the pull to check it out.

The allure of the prize home is a hard one to resist if you call the Southern Gold Coast home – they are everywhere and they have spoiled me.

The scratchie just doesn’t do it for me anymore. The promise of big bucks in the Gold Lotto has lost its appeal – but prize homes, I fall for them every time. And judging by the crowds that we encounter at these properties, we are not alone.


I think it must be the tangible nature of them. To see the immaculate landscaping, perfectly styled interiors and lavish design in person is quite the drawcard – and lure to spend.

We like to think of ourselves as The Block judges on the day of room reveal. I have my role down as Shaynna, inspecting all the storage and my husband does quite a good Neale Whitaker, analysing the wow factor. Even our two year old gets in on the action. He recently scored a master bedroom that we walked through an eleventy out of ten.

Listening to other viewers’ commentary is just as entertaining. Teenagers argue over who will get which room, parents gush over the architecturally-designed space to spread and the men size up where to store their toys.

As we wait our turn to cough up $15 for a ticket, we joke with the family beside us about the futility of buying a ticket for ‘our’ house and my husband thinks he’s hilarious every time he asks for the winning ticket – my responding eye roll is of course part of our standard routine.

The drive home inevitably revolves around what we would do if we won – move in or sell it? Kickstart our property portfolio or spend the spoils on travel? Invite the in-laws to stay or just give them our old house? And the gold bullion, it goes without saying that you speak Pirate when discussing how to spend that.

All too soon we pull in to our driveway and are rudely confronted with an unmown lawn and toys strewn from one end of our relative shoebox to the other.

We take a deep breath before perking up – oh well, it is only temporary after all. There is a prize home out there with our name on it and soon all of this will be a distant memory.

The Meddler

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