There’s a new facet to Cornovirus that’s just coming to light. Something that wasn’t noticed in the original list of symptoms. It’s called: ‘Coronavirus associated, with this much time I can do fucking anything! syndrome’. And affects a certain class of people. Not the fatties, they get enough of a rough deal from Covid as it is. Neither diabetics, specifically, cos they don’t do well either, statistically. No, this affects those who should know better.

Hence, when Mel noticed that we possibly needed a new shed, I went into my normal state of ‘oblivious’. Even though both windows fell out the shed about a year ago, there’s a massive hole in the roof and most of the corners just aren’t there any longer.

So we ordered a new one. The old one was collected Tuesday. 2 Polish geezers quite literally tore it down with their bare hands. Took 10 minutes. And this morning, our new shed arrived.

When ordering basically the same one we had, but without the holes, we just went of the best price/deal/availability/EASE. Because we’d ‘made’ the old one. It was delivered, about 6 panels. Mel and I, one Sunday morning about 20 years ago, glued the sides to the floor, put a couple of nails to hold the roof on, and bish-bosh, one shed. Easy peasy.

Today’s version is the Airfix fully working Harley Davidson Electra Glide model, version. There are 600 parts and 24,000 screws, nuts, bolts and nails. The roof ‘stuff’ comes on a fucking roll, FFS. It’s one step up from ‘here’s your tree and a hammer and saw; build yer shed’.

But I have time. Sorry, WE have time. Absolutely no construction skills whatsoever. But time. And tools. Got lots of tools. Electric ones, petrol ones, leaf-blowers, I got fucking EVERYTHING!!! There’s just one thing I don’t have.

A clue.

Which is why I’m writing this rather than…

Happy Building

A xxxx