How the other half lives - posh tiki bars for the garden!

Yesterday, having shot Storm Bert rampaging at Newhaven Harbour and Seaford, I dropped by at Paradise Park, where there is a dinosaur garden for kids and a rather good garden centre for adults. Rather good? It was a lot better than I expected (I'd never been there before) and perhaps worth another visit. I'd scorned going there before, thinking that - this being Newhaven - it wouldn't be anything special. But I was quite wrong.

Off at one end was a large display of garden structures, way more than just simple sheds. Many of them were decidedly upmarket. 

A cluster of furnished wooden shelters with a round or oval-shaped footprint caught my eye. These were styled 'breeze houses', but in common parlance would be called 'tiki bars for the garden' because users would clearly sit inside and enjoy exotic tropical drinks with umbrellas in them, or whatever tipple was appropriate for the season. Maybe, after frolics in the hot tub, one might adjourn - while still in one's wet bikini - to one of these domestic tiki bars for Sophisticated Conversation. I wouldn't know. 

These particular tiki bars were unglazed and doorless, so that you could be inside, and in the shade, and yet enjoy fresh air and sunshine. But if there was a nagging cold wind, blinds with transparent windows could be unrolled and secured with studs and toggles. They were clearly meant to be wired up too, so that deep into the evening one could converse and clink glasses under soft lighting and even gentle heating. I should think you'd still have to think how to best situate them in your garden, so that the prevailing wind and rain would hit only the back of the structure, leaving most of it dry and undisturbed. Doubtless finding a suitably sheltered spot wouldn't be difficult in the kind of garden a prospective buyer might have. 

Intrigued, I took some shots. First, the smallest option, costing a mere £14,357.

There wasn't actually a cocktail bar within, just shelving, and the occupants would be knocking knees. Not much comfort really. Personally, I'd pass this one up.

Next, a larger faux-thatched-roof affair that cost £23,517, but had a proper bar and a lot more space.

Ah, a much nicer proposition. And it had the proper Polynesian Look. You could get blotto with style in something like this. Convincing. But it still wasn't the best on offer.

No, aspiring Lotus Eaters needed this. A spacious and luxurious tiled-roofed outhouse for all-season entertaining. Only £42,818.

That was me in the red jacket, behind the bar, although I'm not bartending but reflected in the mirror. 

Well, this was a superior 'breeze house' and no mistake! In fact, really much too far removed from that Polynesian vibe to be called a 'tiki bar', even though designed with serious drinking in mind. But look: there was a dining table, and a settee with a low coffee table in front of it, and a carpet. It was still an informal space, but civilised - the retreat not of wild youngsters but of their staid parents, and definitely not somewhere to get drunk in. It was too nice for that. 

But 42 grand...you could buy a lovely used car for money like that, or a respectable new one. Then again, if you did have the money, and the right house and garden, then why not? 

Once again, I found myself feeling thankful that, although I consider myself comfortably placed, I haven't got any spare cash. I wouldn't want to feel tempted to buy something like this. It's not in any case my idea of high-level living. No, my personal situation forces me to budget and make down-to-earth choices. My unswerving top financial priorities - beyond day-to-day stuff - have to be holidays, healthcare (mainly dentist and optician), next-car finance, and house maintenance. Other things must await their turn, and will get bought only when I can afford it. The next laptop, for instance.

So a tiki bar for my back garden? I think not.

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