Never say never!

So. A few years back when Alan and I decided to purchase our cute, but little, very own pink palace, on the sea.  Well to be more accurate I should write, on the sand dune.  Or should that be up the rocks by the lifeguard's shack (now that IS on the sea!), along the path by The Bluff - pub that desperately needs to be bought by someone trendy - through the car park and a short couple of minutes walk past some other chalets/huts/toilet blocks (not everyone has our taste!) and then yes, finally, on the sand dune.  Phew.  Honestly it really does have a sea view. Anyway I've digressed.  When we bought our chalet (now it sounds like it's on some mountain in Switzerland!) one of the things we lurrrrrvvvvved about it,  (you can see we more than loved it can't you), was the fact that it had it's original windows.  Delightful windows with stained glass in the top, which seemed somewhat extravagant for the petite wooden hut that it really was, disguised as a chalet!!!!  Now don't go thinking beautiful wrought iron stained glass, or letting your thoughts turn to magnificent stained glass windows in cathedrals because that would be just ridiculous.  Remember, it's a tiny wooden beach hut, on a sand dune, down by the...... you know the deal.  But still, sweet little pink stained glass windows, how cool is that and of course we uttered the words.  We will never get rid of them.  So.  Back where we started.  Look at this.

 

Yes.  It is indeed our pink palace windows.  Only right now they're on the table in my garden in London and not in my bijoux seaside home (see what I did there).  They're not even in Cornwall.  Sad times.  What happened?

Wind, rain (too much of it during summers), cold and then some cold, which all led to damp, musty bleurgh, bleurgh.  The wood, the windows, all had to go.  I hate myself.  I feel like I've totally betrayed every true beach hut owner anywhere.  I've messed up any chance of getting into a period living, coastal article on the beauty of small wooden huts by the seaside.  But guys, we had to stay there.  We have to let other people stay there.  Painting my hut pink every year come April was killing me but I would have done it, if only I could bear the damp.  I couldn't.  I apologise profusely here and now to anyone who'll listen.  We've sold out.  We've gone to pretend wooden cladding and double glazing but it's toasty, toasty, very very toasty.  Well I hope so - it needs to be tested out, and this latest deluge, day after day, constant fall of rain might just have been the test we needed.  I'm off down there this weekend to paint, the inside this time, and I'm looking forward to the fact that for the very first time I left my bedding on the bed and it shouldn't be wet.  Yey!!!

So. Again.  What do I do with the original windows.  I will keep them and will endeavour to do something beautiful with them, so that if you ever happen to pop by and glance into the double glazed windows now there, your eyes will miss the ugly and move straight to the beautiful, somewhat dated, but absolutely glorious windows from years gone by.

Incidentally, if you stand at the bottom of the sand dune, with your eyes slightly closed, it really doesn't look too bad.  Pictures to follow.