Afternoon of the Living Dead

When the weather is fine and the property is closed, would-be visitors accumulate at the locked gates. Which means that when I have to go out on closed days it resembles a scene from a zombie flick. I’ll be in the car, approaching the gate when I will spot the distinctive jackets and bobble hats of assorted ramblers, pressed up against the wooden bars, peering in to the middle distance, moaning. The closed signs are up, but they mean nothing to them. They barely perceive them. They are driven by a basic impulse, a need, a drive - to access all areas, at all times. It is a hunger. I can almost see their arms outstretched through the bars of the gate, fingers futilely grasping the distant image of the house on the horizon. Of course, if it were a scene from a zombie flick I would then stamp the pedal to the metal, accelerating through the gate, wood splintering, back end fishtailing wildly as I accelerate away, watching the shambolic horde in my rearview mirror as they stumble and turn their dusty eyes toward my disappearing taillights.

This being reality, instead I have to glide to a gentle stop, sigh, get out of the car, unpadlock the gate, open the gate, get back in the car, drive through the gate, sigh, get out of the car, close the gate and repadlock the gate. Which is a much slower process and one which affords endless opportunities for conversations like this. Sometimes if you avoid making eye contact you can just about slip past without engaging in such dialogue, but mostly there is some degree of “yes, I’m afraid so” whilst very pointedly snapping the lock shut and trying to convey “you better not be even considering climbing over these gates as soon as I’m gone, matey” with just a look.

I don't think it is a coincidence that I enjoy zombie-killing games as much as I do.

Closed Season

Well, that’s October over and done with. November sees us in that wonderful, and all too brief, period of time when the house is closed to the public.

No more visitors (apart from a few Christmas events) until March! Well, no more legitimate visitors. Have already had a couple of opportunistic visitors who managed to bypass the closed signs, locked ticket office, deserted car park and then saunter into the house for a bit of a chat with the alarms engineer. This will happen frequently over the winter. When I have to leave the gates unlocked so that workmen can get in, opportunistic visitors soon follow. They will cheerfully pick their way over trailing cords from electrical appliances, weave their way between the step ladders and building detritus, somehow failing to notice the dust sheets covering the contents of the house, and utter those immortal words “Are you open?”

Having persuaded them that, contrary to the – admittedly confusing – outward appearances of scaffolding, builders vans and enormous "No Entry" signs, we are in fact not open at the moment, I returned to the scene of devastation that was previously my office. McColleague and I were having a clear out. Apparently my Jenga-with-box-files storage system is unsafe. As is my habit of storing heavy and sharp-edged items on the stupidly high shelf.

So, it all had to go. The wardens were pleased, they love getting hold of stuff they can burn. You have to put big labels on things you just want them to put in the shed, saying “DO NOT BURN!” We have learned this through bitter experience.

Should be a corking bonfire night. Especially if they leave the cans of paint and batteries in with the boxes.