On Sheds
It is a widely held truth that a man cannot truly be called a real man until he owns a shed.
By that definition, as of three weeks ago Wednesday, I am a real man. I have a real shed. To prove this further, in brief the contents of my shed is as follows:
- A rusty (presumably non-working) lawnmower
- 12-15 almost (but not quite) empty paint tins
- A large tool box (that no longer properly closes)
- A bike
- 2 desk vices – good for holding things
- A set of nearly unused fishing rods with associated tackle boxes
- 5+ jam-jars filled with screws and such
- A (brand new) set of 3 fully adjustable wrenches
- That musky cut wood smell
- A slightly leaking roof
From that list you may note some things that my shed does not contain, which it would be nice for it to have:
- A source of heat
- A power supply
These things are linked, and I hope to both repair the roof, and run a long extension cable down there this weekend, which should let me power all my manly tools (both of them) and bring some sort of heat source down there.
Notably absent from all these things :
- A network connection
- Any way to contact me while I’m in there, beyond walking down the garden and talking to me
If you want something of me while I’m in the shed, feel free to come to the bottom of the garden and join me, but be aware, the price of entry is a mug of tea.