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2005 03 30
Ossington My Ossington
imageWe moved to Ossington under duress. Middle Nineties we were escaping an evil landlord who had promised us massive renovations and delivered nothing but lies and excuses. Even so, territory west of Bathurst was unknown and Rachel was wary of the neighbourhood, dirtier than she was used to, and seemingly populated exclusively by groups of men loitering outside of pool halls. On the night before we had to decide if we would take the apartment, we hiked over around 11pm. The men cluster-stared as we passed. Wrappers strewn around the parking lot of the KFC across from our prospective apartment caught on our shoes. Rachel noted that there were a steady stream of police cars passing by, and suggested that the neighbourhood was so dangerous it required constant surveillance. I laughed and told her that there was a police station around the corner. Actually, the neighbourhood was starting to grow on me. The huddles of men were content to squint as we passed by. Rachel sniffed the fried chicken air dubiously as I pointed out the benefits: cheap rent, a balcony, 3 separate bakeries within a thirty second walk. Plus we had till the end of the week to move out and this – an apartment in an area we had never considered before – was the first livable place we saw that we could actually afford. In the morning, we took the place.
[email this story] Posted by Hal Niedzviecki on 03/30 at 08:05 AM

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