Free connected guideline for Large Persian rug

November 12th, 2010 | Author: Antique

Large Persian rug was beyond my expectation. I had gotten at least 10 times less value of Large Persian rug.

I need opinions on the start of my chapter 2? pretty please?
“Here we go doll,” shouts Eddie “62nd street.” He helps get my luggage out of the trunk and I can’t believe what I am seeing. A green velvet rug leads into the doorway with a matching canopy overhead. A posh looking man stands by the door. I have only seen these images in movies, but not anymore. I’m here and this is all real.“Well enjoy your new life in fabulous New York City,” shouts Eddie as he closes his cab door.“Thanks. Give my love to your ex wife,” I laugh.“Ah good old English humour,” He shouts as he drives away.The man by the door approaches me. He’s wearing a chauffeur hat, a smart looking suit and unbelievable shiny black shoes. I swear if I looked down I would see my face in them.“Hi, madam,” he says “I’m Maurice, may I take your bags?”“Oh, yes please.” I say with a curtsey. I don’t know why I curtsied it just felt like the right thing to do. I could get used to this doorman thing. I have never experienced it before. Back home, in Cambridge, it’s not an everyday occurrence. Although it would be great if it was. Imagine it was; you would drive home from a hard days shopping and just leave your bags in the car. Proceed straight through your front door and into your kitchen, pour yourself a glass of wine and point your hand in the direction where you want your very own “Maurice” to put your bags. I open the door and this place is like a palace. The same green rug covers the whole floor and over to the left is a large marble desk. There are two cream sofas Large Persian rug placed upon what looks like an expensive Persian rug. It looks better than my old family room back home and it’s only reception! I walk over to the desk and ring the little gold bell sat on top. The man behind the desk is on the phone.“Yes ok Mom, I won’t be out late. I gotta go I have a resident to attend to. Yes I love you too.” He put the receiver down and I try, unsuccessfully, not to laugh.“She worries about my cats,” he says, “You know if I’m out all night partying. I don’t live at home.”“Ok,” I laugh, “I’m, Sophie Smith, I’m renting out apartment 225.”“Sophie, lovely to meet you. I’m Eugene.”His name matches his description perfect. He has blonde hair that sits in a middle pattern and is tucked behind his ears. His glasses are as thick as two milk bottle bottoms and he is wearing a checked shirt with braces and fawn granddad trousers. He looks out some paperwork and asks me to sign then hands me a key.“Thank you, Eugene.” I say and I walk toward the lift.I hear a bang and I turn to see poor old Maurice struggle to navigate through the door with my luggage. Maybe I should go help. No, not this time. I mean I should just enjoy the experience and after all it is his job. He would probably be offended if I ask. I enter the lift and press the number four button. When the doors re-open all I see is rows of doors and the same green carpet. I walk down the hallway looking from left to right trying to find my number. Finally all the way at the other end I find my new home. I put my key in the lock and turn.There is a large hallway before I even get into the family room. Hanging on the walls are expensive art pieces. I think they are worth something; I’m not an art lover. To my left are three doors. I open the first and see it is a bedroom. It’s beautiful. There is a large four poster bed straight ahead; behind it is a huge window with stunning cream curtains that drape all the way to the floor. I close the door and open the second. It’s a bathroom with the biggest bath I have ever seen. It has two sinks. Why two? Maybe one is for washing and the other for brushing your teeth. That’s what they probably do in New York. The toilet seat is gold, not real gold but in colour. I hope it’s not real, if it is, I will be scared to use it!Time for door number three. I feel like I’m on Blind Date. It’s an old TV programme back home where you have to sit behind a screen and choose a mystery date from men numbered one to three.It’s just an empty space. I could use it for a walk in wardrobe. Feeling pleased with myself that I already feel at home, I walk down the hall and into the large open planned family room and kitchen. I don’t even notice the kitchen at first because to be honest I’m not much of a cook. Believe it or not.Straight ahead past the chocolate brown corner sofa and plasma on the wall is a huge bay window which opens out onto a balcony. I walk out and the sight takes my breath away. Central Park! How did I not see that down at the door?Eugene is the desk clerk and Maurice is the door man. She also mentions her name in this chapter. But I agree with the hi part I will change that
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