What would the summer be without a project?
My wife Gaynor, tired of all of my clutter in her kitchen drawers and stored in potentially useful cupboards in the caravan, set my project for me this year. It was simple enough - gather up all of my tools from the hundred or so places they have ended up into a single place. Take down the old, jam-packed, jumbled, rotting wooden sheds and replace them with new sheds that we could actually keep things in. Tidy up the area at the bottom of the garden under the trees by the gas tank, and generally sort things out.
Generally sort things out… No problem.
If only it had been that simple.
It took weekends of demolishing, building, swearing, painting, refurbishing, arranging, chopping, swearing, sawing, moving, swearing, rearranging, hammering, sawing, swearing, erecting, smashing, instruction reading (something I’ve never done willingly), swearing - until I eventually ‘generally sorted things out’.
It was a much bigger task than I envisaged, but here’s the result –
Next project please, I need a purpose, I need to feel useful.