The Other Shed.

Writing this feels wrong as if I am somehow cheating on my other shed. The truth is however that this was my first shed. Technically I share it with my wife, it was part of a wedding present off my mother.  This shed started out with a purpose but has become a hoarding space, garage, and more recently, a nursery for my seedlings. I've even bought a heated propagator.

I almost lost my mind with excitement when I bought it and my eye when my wife threatened to throw something at me for harping on about it to her. But this is where I will be growing all my seeds before transferring them down to the allotment. I never thought I'd get so excited about planting seeds and little did I consider that when my stepfather put electricity into this shed so that I could charge my scooter that I would be turning it into an overhyped growing area as well.

Men can be strange creatures. When we first got shed one (this one) I hadn't even really considered ever getting an allotment. My plan was to grow things out the back garden but then along came the hens, which ruined the ground, and then came the dogs, so I decided that I would keep the front garden for planting and give the rest over to the animals.

Now it has been repurposed back to its original purpose. No longer a glorified dumping ground it now holds the honour of being a maternity ward for all my seedlings. It's clean, tidy and relatively uncluttered.

The other one down the allotment is in need of some TLC, a new side, a cracked rear, that sounds more painful than it looks but right now it's still standing, it was free and it is a place where I can store all my pots and string, a shed needs to store string, a stringless shed doesn't feel right.

So here I am, a man with two sheds and one allotment. It sounds like the outline for a cheap sitcom and if you could see the way I'm huffing and puffing when digging the ground I'm sure it would bring tears of laughter to your eyes.

Until next time, take care.

One Man and His Shed.

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 vestigae 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 Eversert 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.

Plot 12.

A little bit of Eden.

After five years of waiting, I finally received the call to say that if I was still interested then there was an allotment available.  Of course, being forty-five and therefore felt it only right that I should begin practicing for my obligatory mid-life crisis I was quick to accept even before having viewed the plot. 

Plot number 12. A simple enough sentence but one that hid the realities well. Plot 12 had fallen on hard times and was in need of a little TLC. When I read this back it almost romanticizes the fact that what I was actually taking on would be a mammoth task.

I have been disabled for the majority of my life. A combination of severe scoliosis (curvature of the spine) and high functioning autism, as well as a host of other things, mean that any physical work takes me longer, I can only do small amounts at a time and yes it does leave me aching and exhausted. Did I mention I only technically have one functioning lung, the other being there for decoration purposes alone?

Anyway getting back to plot 12, As you can see from the photo it hasn't been touched for around seven years. That's seven years of neglect and a build-up of weeds and brambles.  Add into this the fact that whoever had it prior to me had clearly watched far too much television and had thought that after rotovating the ground and covering it with a tarpaulin that was all they needed to do. 

As the plants began to grow through the tarpaulin (I'm still trying to work out how) and the weeds returned, they simply harvested the crops and added another layer of tarpaulin. This was clearly going to take some time to get control of.

Next time..... One man and his shed.