Fiddling with sheds…

What a lovely weekend.

Yesterday I spent a long day in the garden with my boy William installing a shed in the garden. It was kind of his birthday present- he was desperate for a tree house, but none of our trees are ideal, and I was rather fearful that one of his friends would end up in hospital as a result. So the compromise was a small shed, installed in a corner of garden all his own…

Of course, this involved a load of work- ripping out enough ivy for a hundred Christmases, building a level platform (our garden is rather like the north face of the Eiger, minus the snow) and then the usual hammering and screwing and cursing that accompany any shed erection. (And if you read any rudeness into that last sentence- then it is YOUR mind, not mine!)

Here he is, with freshly installed (purple!) wall to wall carpet. If you should call round you are sure to be invited in- please remember to leave shoes outside…

Today, by way of contrast, I took my lovely daughter Emily to a wedding over the water, where she had been booked to play fiddle (with me as accompanist on guitar.) I was so proud of her, and we had a lovely day out together. The wedding was the daughter of Simon and Helen, our friends from Dunoon, so it was great too to see them all so happy.

Now, back home, well fed, watching the light fade over the Clyde, I am a man blessed. And for a melancholic, it does not get much better than that.

A shed full of hope…

I have been busy!

Regular readers of this blog may remember some garden deconstruction in the summer…

It has been quite a job to clear the wreckage, along with all sorts of junk left behind by previous occupants of our house.

One benefit to clearing the space is that it revealed some graffiti art on our back wall done by Marcel, a Swiss guy that lived in our annex for a while. It spells out the word…

Hope.

Which is kind of appropriate, as building new things always requires hope.

I need a shed.

All men need sheds- perhaps women too, but the place of contemplation and creativity for men of a certain age is often made out of timber.

I have another purpose to all this though- we are in the process of trying to reshape some of what we do to earn a living, and one of these involves the establishment of a craft co-operative with some friends. And so the cellar needs to be cleared out to allow the setting up of a couple of kilns. Tools go into what is presently the garden store, and garden equipment needs a new home.

So here it is so far, after three days hard labour-

And I need a workshop, where I intend to make stuff.

Simple stuff from driftwood and pebbles and rope.

In the hope that a new kind of life is possible.