Oh, the heartache!

We are moving, finally, into our new cottage!  This should be a time of deep joy and happiness, yes?

Well, it was.  Right up until our kit came out of storage.

This was once a Victorian french polished mahogony extending dining table.  There are four extra leaves to go with it.  At full stretch it accommodated twelve diners in comfort with enough elbow room each to allow the use of semaphore to indicate a desire for condiments.  Behind it you will notice a listing hall cupboard, missing its rear undercarriage.

Here is a close up of a surface in which one could once see the reflection of one's face suffused by the warm glow only highly polished wood can endow.

Not wishing to bore you all with photos of an extensive inventory completely destroyed by the tropical climate and the beasties that thrive therein (all my bone china is smashed, my silver cutlery severely denuded, paintings destroyed, photo albums glued together, book cases eaten apart and anything perceived valuable here missing etc.), I give you one last photo of the books I have no choice but to throw away.

Marcia, clearly distraught at my all to evident grief, attempted to console me by pointing out it was all old stuff anyway and then, with a cheery smile, pointing out that now she could by all new stuff from China.

And they say 'Real' men don't cry.