Last night, the new Uni-students-who-party-every-night next door intrigued us with the sound of splashing and diving in between the usual bad drumming and clinking of beer bottles at 2am.
Intrigued, this morning The King and I climbed to the top battlement and looked down on the neighboring castle.
Apart from being impressed at the sheer unapologetic pardy-ness of their back verandah, we were gobsmacked to see that they had rented a huge blow-up pool.
The Royal Handmaiden assures me that we wouldn’t be able to fit one on the carriageway for our next soirée – dang.
But now my ever-present desire for a lap pool down the side of the castle has reared its head again (quote was hideously expensive, even though I did not reveal the true horror to The King).
I am now wondering about pulling the duranta out of the middle of the royal courtyard and installing a small round plunge pool instead.
Royal plan below.