The Wood Museum
My dad collects, stores, and reverentially cherishes wood.

OK, let's be specific - planks, or finished surfaces.

Examples - I had a new kitchen fitted recently. Mr and Mrs Disappointed came to visit. There was a spare drawer front which Mr. D cradled longingly then took home.

A window frame, complete with glass, was removed from their neighbours house during recent alterations. Mr D retreived the whole shooting match from the skip.

There is a shed at the bottom of their garden full (comprehensively - you can no longer open the door) of wood, including a hutch last occupied by our Guinea Pigs over 20 years ago.

It is impossible to get behind the shed due to the sheer amount of wood stashed there.

The wood stash has now started to consolidate behind the conservatory.

I ought to add that my 68 year old father is utterly compos mentis in all other respects and held a highly responsible post with the MOD prior to his retirement.

Eventually my father and mother will pass on, because all flesh is as grass.

I will inherit, amongst other things, a fucking enormous amount of utterly useless timber.

I'm seriously considering killing two birds with one stone and sending him off with a viking funeral.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Fri 6 Jul 2007, 21:31, Reply)