It was the morning of my three-hour drive down to Cornwall and my four-day escape. I’d left later than planned, having made sure that everything was packed and prepared sandwiches for the day. Still, I hoped to be able to avoid the worst of the inevitable southbound traffic.
I chose Lanhydrock, with its grand house and estate, as a convenient ‘pit-stop’ to ease my journey and celebrate the end of all motorway driving, for at least three days.
With a long weekend and clear skies forecast, I decided I would use this time to try and replace the fence panels that blew down sometime in, erm… February! That’s without mentioning the two fence posts that had each rotted away at ground level. It had seemed like a monstrous job; the kind that I detest, with my general hatred towards pathetic fence panel construction. Each morning I’ve driven to work, each evening I’ve come home; that gaping view on to the neighbour’s weathered decking had been haunting me for far too long. I was tired of tripping over the old panel remains just outside the workshop door. Something had to be done!