It was annoyingly cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock, Harry saw, is what looked like another rock but much smaller than the last. "Well there isn't a television in there." Harry muttered. Thankfully no one heard him over the wind. "Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!" An ugly, toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat in the iron-gray water below them. "I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon. "so all aboard!" It was very cold in the boat and Harry kept muttering under his breath about why the world had to be so cruel as icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After a while they reached the rock where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house. The inside was awful; it smelled of seaweed, the wind whistled in through the holes in the walls, the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only to rooms. Uncle Vernon took out the things in his bag, witch turned out to be four bananas and a bag of chips each, as Harry's nose scrunched up at the smell.