About a month ago I plucked up the courage to start building. With the help of a faithful thirteen year old the shed slowly took shape under the cloud of air turned blue because of all that swearing that went on. Surely potty mouthed expletives should be included in the instructions. 'Sh*t!' as a roof panel comes sliding back to earth and of course the obligatory F**k!, f**k, f**k! when a finger gets hit. I am bringing the fish wife back to Brixham! In spite, or maybe because of all that cussing, the basics got done and I was quite pleased with my handiwork. There was a bit of a gap on the roof apex that couldn't quite be closed up but isn't that what roofing felt is for?
Thank goodness for my dear friend Corn Pipe. He took one look at my attempt at glazing, shook his head and assertively took over the end stage of the project. He even managed the rather clever bodge that was needed for the bolt. For the price of a couple of beers I thankfully have a half decent shed and whoopee! My understairs cupboard is neat and tidy now there's a new home for skate and body boarding paraphernalia. There's no longer a bag of soil to trip over near the washing machine and my bike has been relegated from being a 'feature' in my kitchen. What a difference that extra 7'x5' of space has made!