Okay. I have an old gate, which is held in place by the bolt on one side and friction on the other. I'm worried that it will disintegrate with the next strong gust of wind in much the same way that a vampire dissolves when the sunlight hits it.
I'd like to say that it's provided fine service. It hasn't: it's been crap. The previous owner constructed it but carpentry wasn't on his list of skills. As it's not on mine either, I've had to rely on the mysterious gate man.
So I have a new gate, which is so sturdy that it would resist a cavalry charge. That it remains unpainted and is lying on its side on my porch is of no consequence. One day that will change. One day I will have a huge, solid, all-opening, all-shutting, gleaming picket gate. Praise that day! Hallelujah!
(Yeah, I know. Pickets. How naff. And how anachronistic. This is a house from 1922. But I'm not going to argue. I've got a gate.)
(I should point out that the wide-angle lens has caused distortion in both pictures. There's a touch of the carnival about this place but it's not quite the House of Fun.)