This is our shed.
We installed it on the ugly grey concrete-paved patio at the bottom of the garden, primarily because we had got fed up of dragging the lawn mower down from the attic every time the grass needed cutting.
I wanted a summer house. I had fantasies of an adult-sized wendy house that I would sit in, sipping my G&T, surrounded by nice things.
But then I realised that the summer house would fill up with compost, and garden tools, and old pots, and spiders. And sitting in it would not be nice. Or even possible.
So we have the shed, instead.
But I still have hankerings.
I have shed envy.
The shed might get a makeover during the summer.
I am thinking black or dark grey paint, frosted windows, guttering and a water butt.
A window box, some kind of old signage on the door, pale sweet peas twining up the trellis.
If you enjoy sheds (as, apparently did my grandfather – he reputedly had six sheds, from which he rarely emerged), you may like to take a browse through this.
Now those are serious sheds. Sheds with views.