Monday, June 04, 2007
Shed Shocker
The Fencing Contractors Association, an august body - the members of its committee wear frock coats, wing collars and, on special occasions, gaiters, has soberly warned against panic buying in response to the desperate shortage of fencing panels. This crisis has been caused by wet summers and mild winters in Scandinavia (global warming - see!), building booms in China and Dubai and an export levy applied by the Russians as part of Putin's highly-successful programme to restart the Cold War. This story has not so far concerned me. I have no need of fencing panels and it is years since I bought a copy of What Fencing Panel magazine. But, on television this morning, I heard that the shortage will soon affect the supply of sheds. This is serious. Nige, my co-blogger, and I are of the conviction that we belong in sheds. A shed is a man's natural home, a place where he can quietly consider the mysteries of his predicament while pretending to do something important, probably involving plant pots. Nige has a shed and I do not. Thanks to Putin and global warming, that situation seems likely to remain unchanged for some time.
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A blog about, among other things, imaginary ideas - What ifs? and Imagine thats. What if photographs looked nothing like what we see with our eyes? Imagine that the Berlin Wall had never come down. What if we were the punchline of an interminable joke? All contributions welcome.
I do indeed have a shed - purchased in the nick of time, it would seem, and only recently assembled. It is painted blue - if it's good enough for Kirstie Allsopp, it's good enough for me, that's my maxim (Kirstie works in a blue shed). Blue outside, white inside, very little in it as yet. Too small, of course (can a shed ever be big enough?). Mostly I stand outside and admire it - and just now, prompted by your warning words, I went down the garden and photographed it. When the shed rustlers strike, I'll have a photo for the police to circulate. Mind how you go.
ReplyDeleteCareful that your shed does not become a should. A shed needs to be as visually uncomfortable as can be conceived. Give every appearance of nearing to arctic conditions. And child unfriendly, sharp objects or objects looking sharp hanging about three/four feet of the floor. Homemade is a sure way to go, what with nails screws and various other sharp objects protruding from skip timber. Strategic placement on the build will keep anything filmy a good four feet from the door.
ReplyDeleteHow Gaven made such a mistake at this years garden show, the very idea of a his and hers shed !!!!
The fence story just featured on BBC Breakfast. It had me laughing out loud. It was right up there with ‘spaghetti growing on trees’ in that the presenters were SO serious. They even managed to find a woman to interview in her back garden that had hired a van for some other reason and then decided to drive it to Devon on the weekend.
ReplyDelete"There are no fence panels anywhere between West London and Devon."
You couldn't make it up!
How do the BBC get people to appear on a fluff piece like this? Start ringing around local numbers in the phone book asking. "Are you short of fence panels?"
Worrying words Vince - I suspect I've had a girlie shed foisted on me - should have seen it coming. The rustlers will probably sneer and leave it alone.
ReplyDeleteWhat's all this about men and their sheds? Women have them too you know - only in their case they're called gazebos, or summerhouses, and they have tables and chairs, and sun-blinds at the windows.
ReplyDeleteMy shed is my sanctuary. (Well, if Virginia Woolf could have one, why not I?) Shared only with the cat, the old fridge-freezer, the lawn-mower, and half a dozen garden chairs...
My husband sets foot in it at his peril.
Well Beatrice that does indeed sound idyllic - but is it a shed? These are deep waters (in which, I now realise, I am unqualified to swim - what I now have is not a shed either - darn!). One day, one day, I shall have a true shed and, with any luck, I'll live in it...
ReplyDeleteIt is, Nige, without the shadow of a doubt or misapprehension, a shed.
ReplyDeleteIt's just that it's a rather pretty one.
And not blue either. Being more Virgina Woolf than Kirsty Alsopp, I've painted mine in stubborn shades of green...
Green is good - and I think the whole point of sheds, for men and women alike, is the obvious one of a cosy but basic, self-contained refuge from family, the opposite sex and all the trials of reality and purpose. It's just that I think with men the urge is stronger and more basic. The Wind In The Willows, though it never mentions a shed, is the perfect expression of this primal longing in its male form.
ReplyDeleteSheds are indeed a man thing. i think Ted Bundy used to dismember his victims in the privacy of his shed? My father had a shed too, which he mainly used for storing the kind of tools you'd need to dismember cadavers.
ReplyDeleteTed Bundy might have dismembered his victims in his shed, but there have been greater crimes committed there. Since I discovered that Alan Titchmarsh does all his writing from his garden shed, I've been put right off the idea. Of course, the fact I own neither a garden nor a shed might also have something to do with it.
ReplyDeleteFor shed fanciers, there is a wonderful philosophical short story on the life-story of a shed by Victor Pelevin- The Life and Adventures of Shed XII, in his short story collection The Blue Lantern. Imagine reading a story about the conscious life or soul-life of a shed while actually inside a shed. What bliss to be alive in such a succession of moments.
ReplyDeleteAll is not lost, Nige. And while the Athos canal might be going a little to far. The Kiftsgate rose provides a defence not seen since WW1. But a pitchfork will be required.
ReplyDeleteHmm -- this sheds light on my husband's "shed." If you can call it that; he calls it his "office." He had the cedar imported from Canada and built the darn thing himself (a rather major project that required other male friends at a couple of points) at the far end of our backyard. It has electricity (for computer, phone, a.c., heat) and he gallops out there every time his wife or one of his children annoys him or begins to nag him to do something.
ReplyDeleteNige is utterly right about the purpose of his "office" -- it's a refuge. The only other being allowed in there is our old cat, Brad. No kids, no female dog or cat. I suppose he and Brad some cigars and have whiskey as they watch the chipmunks frisk across the old stone wall at the back of our garden. Peaceful and female free.
Me, I don't want a shed: I want a beach house!
Beatrice:
ReplyDeleteNo, no, you don't get it. A blogger from Alabama I used to know talked about how every family man needs a "poutin' shed" to retreat to and assuage his outraged masculinity. No one is welcome, unless he brings a bottle, sits on a crate and says nothing.
I'm afraid the tables and chairs in your summerhouse gives the game away.
Susan - that husband of yours is truly living the dream. I am green (like Beatrice's controversial garden building) with envy.
ReplyDeleteAndrew - I now have The Blue Lantern on order from Abebooks. And Vince, the pitchfork is ready, though I'm not sure this particular shed is worth fighting for...
ReplyDeleteIn Minnesota the poutin' shed is known as an ice fishing hut.
ReplyDeleteAh yes. Sheds, beer and silence. The last bastions of a beseiged masculinity.
ReplyDeleteGo straight to the shed story, Nige. A wittier more imaginative mind, I doubt alive at the moment.
ReplyDeleteGood lord, what is all this stuff? I spend a day away from the screen and the whole world goes shed crazy. I thought I was taking a rest from controversial topics.
ReplyDeleteSeptic tanks will really drag in the crowds, Bryan.
ReplyDeleteSeptic tanks will really drag in the crowds, Bryan.
ReplyDeleteSo good I said it twice
ReplyDeleteSeptic tanks!? Don't get me started on septic tanks...
ReplyDeleteMy wife has just helpfully observed that this blog is my shed. Hmmm....
ReplyDeleteA septic tank is a man's natural home, a place where he can quietly consider the mysteries of his predicament while pretending to do something important, probably involving rubber gloves.
ReplyDeleteDamn she's right! Who needs a shed? A septic tank though...
ReplyDeleteI have just eaten a peach - my first this year. I was, of course, nowhere near a shed.
ReplyDelete