If you had a few dozens of keys and as many locks, how many trials do you need to see which ones are a match? The answer is it depends on your luck. While Thomas was repairing the old locks on even more ancient doors, I set off to insert keys into holes and see if they worked or not. To make this task less tedious and less scary (old keys rattling in badly lit cellars and dim corridors) I was humming cheerful tunes to myself. Off I went, gathering dust and cobwebs in my hair, bundles of keys hanging from my belt, around my neck and in my hands. A white-haired madwoman from Teutonic mythology. Or better perhaps, Greek Aiakos, guardian of the keys to Hades. A ditzy female version of course and one with a penchant for witty lyrics from musicals.

This puzzle tour made me pay attention to the variety of latches, handles and locks we have at Lescure. Elegant ornate handwork in some cases, purely functional in others. Alas, I found only a few matches, but I’m also pleased to report we didn’t unlock any dark mysteries or murky secrets. And the whole exercise did open me up to a new perspective: Lescure comes to life again not only through big gestures, but also through tiny details. Even things as small as locks and keys help reconstruct its fantastic world.