NATIONAL SHED WEEK

One of the most successful birthday presents as far as my new shiny nine year old is concerned, is the new space down at the bottom of the garden in which to play. I mentioned in an earlier post that we managed (with the help of a very useful-everyone-should-have-one-handyman) to surprise him on the morning of his birthday by turning this:-



into this:-


...and now all three of the children seem to be fighting for access. I had no idea that it was "National Shed Week" last week, a time when seemingly, the British obsession with what to do with the shed at the bottom of the garden reaches fever pitch.

Frankly the concept of "the shed" has never appealed to me. I can't even be bothered to walk to them they are so boring. They make my legs feel tired at the mere thought and I go all floppy and have to lie down in the middle of the garden instead. My grandfather always had one of those uber organised garage/shed things that he was immensely proud of and we were expected to want to spend hours in there with him looking impressed. My youngest brother was the only one who got even close to being allowed to actually touch anything in there.

Even a shed that is full of my own belongings doesn't appeal....tools (inherited from above mentioned grandfather and/or concerned males who think I need to own tools - of no interest whatsoever) 85 non matching, ill-fitting wellington boots (none of which belong to me because I am pathetically pleased about the fact that I don't own a pair), 8 x pairs roller blades (5 x too small and were broken when bought from school fair), 6 x tennis rackets (all too small and broken), paint tins (dry), christmas decs, garden tools (all now hanging neatly on walls - look great - no need to move), bicycles, lawn mower, lot of boxes and so on and bloody so on.

However, now that I have put a teeny weeny fridge, our old sofa bed, a rug, some chairs, a child's painting and a dart board, I am thinking about moving down there myself.

I am a little worried about the petrol fumes from the lawnmower though - ever since I was a child I have been a bit of a petrol-head, my mother was always worried about my penchant for wanting to hang out at petrol stations rather too long inhaling large sniffs of petrol....

I better not allow myself to get wi-fi down there or that will be it - I won't be bothered to walk back up the garden to the house ever again and the best thing about it is that there is no kitchen! All I need to do is decant the soft drinks in the fridge and fill it up with my wine supplies.