Arachne

By Arachne

Useful Shed

Today is another miserable day of grey, joy-sapping rain. I should stride out and combat my mood with exercise (which has just been proven not to work although I think something's wrong with the experiment) but I'm on leave in order to do things, so I've just skulked at home pretending to do them. As diversionary activity 78 I switched on the camera, saw the battery was flashing red and I set myself a challenge: to go into the shed (sort of outside but without rain), take pictures until it died then choose one. It took six. This is the least worst.

Once upon a time this shed was a passage between our end-of-terrace house and next door's house. It grew nettles, dock, ragwort and straggly mint, and gave people access to the back garden to steal our bikes. So we covered it, fixed second-hand doors at either end and dumped stuff in it.

The stuff:
Firewood, recently scavenged from a skip for next winter (which is probably this evening) - needs sorting.
About a third of a tin of paint.
Orange bow saw - blade needs tightening.
The wire innards of torn paper lightshades - might be usable for something.
Wooden garden chairs - waiting for summer. Huh.
Ghanaian dried-fish basket - 30 years ago the fishsellers in Brixton market threw these baskets away when the fish was sold so I just asked for one. It has been a laundry basket, bedding-store, dressing up basket, hide-and-seek place and is now where I put prunings to dry into kindling.
Circular saw on workmate, for cutting firewood.
Smaller basket, from a pre-millennium Topshop window display of autumn leaves, bizarrely dumped on the street after Halloween with a glass spaghetti jar that I also commandeered.
Ladder.
Tiny drawers containing screws of all sizes, curtain hooks, superseded tap washers, rawl plugs, panel pins and odd nuts and bolts that I love matching.

Beyond is the hose, uncoiled from the water butt, a wet chair for which there wasn't room in the shed over winter and the miraculous apple tree of previous and future blips.

That's it. Now on to diversionary activity 79...

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