Looks spooky, is for sale.
"Clegg Hall is said to be haunted. The Clegg Hall boggart (as the ghost is better known) is usually placed in the 13th century. The longest version is a fictionalized account in a book called In Olden Dayswritten by a local vicar (Revd. Oakley) in the early years of this century. It reckoned that the master of the house went off to France to fight with Henry. While the father was away the wicked uncle killed both his nephews, throwing them over the battlements into the moat of what was presumably a fortified house. Eventually the father returned. His brother crept through a secret passage from a nearby hall (possibly Stubley Old Hall), ready to do away with the distraught father, when one of the children's voices was heard calling out "Father beware!" (or words to that effect) and the father awoke, sending his evil brother running terrified to plunge to his death. Ever since, allegedly, the phantom boy has been heard issuing warnings." via Wikipedia
What if I won the lottery and bought a commercial building just around the corner from the George. Then everything might be right again.
This is what I like to call a "business plan." This is also why I'm not in "business."
From Sunday's NY Times
On why she was still single at 35:
Obviously, I was left over, too — I was just never sure what my problem was. Until one man let me know. After overhearing a friend and me comparing our weekend horror-date stories, he walked up to me and asked, “You know what your problem is?”
No, I did not know what my problem was. And I was dying to find out.
“Your problem,” he said, “is you don’t need a man.”
I thought that was a good thing — to be able to take care of oneself.
He asked if I had a job.
“Yes.”
“A car?”
“Yes.”
“A house?”
“Yes.”
“Clothes?”
“Of course.”
“Food?”
“Obviously.”
“That’s your problem.”
“Excuse me?”
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