That's the opening line from our time capsule letter that was buried in the Living Room fireplace on Christmas Eve, 2015.
That was yesterday, for those of you who have indulged in too many chocolate liqueurs after dinner. Merry Christmas and all that. I'm writing this so I can avoid Strictly, Corrie, EmmyFarmy and Downty at my parents' house. It's a never-ending assault of terrible telly. Dawn's with her folks 200-odd miles away. We haven't spent a single December 25 together since we met and our own Christmas Day is always on the 27th.
A little bit of seasonal trivia for you, there.
A little bit of seasonal trivia for you, there.
I'm digressing already.
The only people who will get to read the rest of the 24-page time capsule letter - including 3,271 words, 27 photos and 10 blog screenshots - might not have even been born yet, which is a strange concept to get your head around. So if you want to read it, you'll need to buy The Lodge first.
The only people who will get to read the rest of the 24-page time capsule letter - including 3,271 words, 27 photos and 10 blog screenshots - might not have even been born yet, which is a strange concept to get your head around. So if you want to read it, you'll need to buy The Lodge first.
![]() |
I'll miss that hat, but he's in a better place now :( |
Because it's entirely possible that Dawn and I will be long gone by the time the letter sees the light of day again, we spent a couple of weeks working out exactly what should be in it. If we had discovered something similar ourselves, what would we want it to tell us?
So it details who we are; when and where we were born; a breakdown of our families; our circumstances; what we're doing to The Lodge; why we're doing it; what our plans are for the place; the history that we know of so far; what's happening in the world at the minute... and loads of other stuff.
It mentions a variety of things from Star Wars to hoverpants (my prediction of the future) and Donald Trump's hair-do, but the one thing I forgot to put in it was how much we actually bought the property for. I guess they'll have to do some research.
![]() |
Toodle pip, chaps. Please don't rot. |
I wanted to fill the stick...
Not content with that little lot I also bought Christmas Eve editions of The Times and the local weekly paper and buried them in a heavily taped-up plastic bag together with the Christmas TV Times because everyone wants to know what's on the box at this time of year.
![]() |
When I first dug it out the muck beneath was at 100% humidity, which doesn't bode too well |
I think that's everything. It's not easy choosing stuff for a time capsule, you know.
Our beautiful new slate hearth, which we collected a day earlier, will be set in lime screed on top of the sand in the next week-or-so followed by the log-burner, which we also have waiting to go in.
After that, to all intents and purposes, our little slice of history will be lost...
It's a pretty weird feeling. I hope we've done it right.
EDIT - 27.12.15
The fireplace now appears to have been adopted by SausageTheCat as his lavvy. He's in the doghouse.
After that, to all intents and purposes, our little slice of history will be lost...
...until one day...
It's a pretty weird feeling. I hope we've done it right.
EDIT - 27.12.15
The fireplace now appears to have been adopted by SausageTheCat as his lavvy. He's in the doghouse.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your comment!
It might take us a wee while to spot it in the moderation queue, so please bear with us. We might be a bit busy.