While perusing the property pages back in January, Hester was surprised at some of the exorbitant prices for rental units including one listed by Coldwell Banker. The property was: "0 bedrooms, 1 full bath" in Southampton for $1,800. Well, Coldwell's latest insert in Monday's daily had a similar property listed in Hamilton Parish. The ad said: "0 bedroom, 1 full bath" for a more reasonable $1,500. Back in January Hester made the comment that other landlords may start jumping on the bandwagon and start offering their water closets for rent, perhaps Hester's new calling is as a property psychic. With the thought of renting a bathroom for $1,500 a month, Hester nearly fell off her rocker the very next day when she spied an opportunity in the "Lost and found items" of Tuesday's daily. The ad said: "Lost. One and a half acre executive building lot in Paget..." While Hester is not sure of the Island's policy of "finders keepers, losers weepers," she was out on Tuesday morning searching for a large lot of land in Paget on which to plant a flag and claim as her own. With property at such a premium, Hester wonders how anyone could misplace what could be worth more than $1.5 million according to recent estimates that one acre of the rock is worth $1 million. Imagine how many "0 bedrooms 1 full baths" one could build on an acre and a half. Hester could retire on the rent, whiling away the days sipping G&T's.Hester realises that sometimes things that appear straightforward are anything but. A case in point were her attempts to get from Hamilton to one of the Western parishes last week; a feat she was only able to accomplish by going in the extreme opposite direction of her destination — St. George's.

Last Wednesday (er, Thursday) Hester was waiting on Front Street at 3 a.m. — and Hester thinks that a reasonable hour considering the Island's nightclubs and several bars close up then — along with other revellers, and was surprised to find she could not get a taxi home.

Determined not to break the law by climbing into her roomy four wheel vehicle (yes, our Hester had enjoyed a few tipples), and ever resourceful, Hester rang up the taxi dispatch on her mobile but also to no avail.

Not one to sleep on a curb, Hester prevailed and finally found a lone cab. Much to her chagrin, for she was not in a flirting mood at that hour, the taxi was already occupied by two blokes — crew members from a ship in St. George's.

But the taxi driver, bless him, took pity on our poor dear in a very roundabout way. Our cabbie informed Hester that there were unlikely to be any more cabs coming by for some time and that if she wanted to get home, she'd better come along to St. George's, and then he'd drop her up country.

Hester will think twice next time about getting into an inebriated state at wee hours of the morning as she really doesn't want to camp out on a street corner. That is at least until the taxi system can actually be relied on.