Doug Morton
Jul 10, 2017 · 1 min read

You reminded me of the time my wife and I drove home from a dressed up event in the pouring rain. It was pitch black as the car headlights rounded on our drive and illuminated our six foot tall automatic gate. I thoughtlessly pressed the little clicker and nothing happened! I quickly rolled down the side window and pressed the entry numbers on the keypad. Nothing happened! The dogs were howling by now set off by an instinct which can predict our arrival before, well, our arrival. No amount of clicking or cursing was going to shift the stubborn gate. So I had to get out, climb the stone flanking wall, wade through the head height rhododendron bushes, climb a wooden mesh fence hidden within the bushes ( dog escape proofing) and emerge at the control panel whereupon I, and only I, for reasons too boring to mention, could overcome the gate mechanism. Gate open, drive in, soaked husband. Oh how we laughed! The last bit isn’t true.

And the question I should have asked? Why me? Who were we so frightened of? Why does this always happen when it’s raining? Nope, nope and nope. The question I should have asked … isn’t it a privilege to live out in the countryside and to easily be able to manage who comes to our front door? So how can I improve this design to avoid ruining my favourite suit in future? Rage gives way to calm reflection and the solution is clear. A simple, lockable pass gate in the hedge.

    Doug Morton

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    Practicing writing because I love words.....