What is it with men and sheds? We covert them, envy them and, most of all we want ours to be the best. My shed was perhaps the only decent thing that was done to the allotment. It was left there like some lonesome soul cast adrift amongst a sea of wrack and ruin.
It stands guard much like I imagine it has for years but even this vestige of hope has fallen on hard times but luckily for me, there is nothing that cannot be restored and brought back to its former glory.
The first thing to do was to secure it although quite what I was securing it against God only knows. The crowd of Woodlice that had made themselves at home seemed perfectly capable of holding their own should an angry mob of slugs or snails try gatecrashing their party and, as I had only just taken over the plot I had very little to protect either. However, men being men need to tinker and so tinker is what I did. I fitted a lock, badly and it is about as efficient as a chocolate teapot but nevertheless, I have fitted a lock and I have given it a good sweep, a fresh coat of preservative and a new covering of felt on the roof.
To think I’m forty-five and this is the very first time I’ve ever fitted felt to a shed roof. My poor wife who is extremely capable in all things DIY orientated came to help and advise but you would swear that I had conquered Everesrt the way I made such a song and dance about it for days afterward.
Today I bought myself a set of plastic drawers, no not the underwear drawers, I might be getting on but I’m not that bad, yet,! I bought them to keep my growing collection of bits and bobs in. Already in less than a month, I have got three pairs of gardening gloves, two bundles of string, two rusty saws, a bag of nails and other miscellaneous items that I’ve convinced myself will be vital to my allotmenteering.
Next time join me as I lose my mind with excitement over the depth to which my bramble and tree roots have gone as I continue my quest to reclaim the land.