We collected the keys to Seaside Lodge on Saturday morning. Back of the truck loaded to the gunnels with airbeds, chairs, tool kit and the desert island essentials – Marmite, foot file and my second best fit flops.
We unloaded the gubbins, then surveyed our new kingdom. It was the first time we’d been inside since we viewed it back in May.
Comically large spider in residence – tick. Smell approximating a fusion of boiled cabbage, wet newspapers and something I haven’t smelt since I helped mum deliver Meals on Wheels circa 1972 – tick.
So, here are the pics. Jon had started ripping things about before I got the chance to take pics of the lodge untouched. But let’s just say after 2 days we hadn’t found a screw or a piece of wood thicker than a greetings card. Thus far, it appears the lodge has been constructed of nails, balsawood and sticky back plastic. Lots of sticky back plastic.
Sunday was my birthday. So I sashayed around measuring things, then we went to the beach, drank champagne and dozed in the late summer sun. Daydreaming about log burners, tartan rugs and sitting on the deck by the lake. Well, I was.
Footnote. People keep walking into our garden to view the lake. I found a man there at 6am. One word: fence.