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Ramblings from my shed.

My shed is up and running. Feel free to pull up a chair. Rants are welcome. Tea, coffee and cake available :slight_smile:

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LOST.

One old, much loved and well used garden trowel. black wooden handle. Reward offered for safe return.

Can I bring a guest? Best hiding your wellies though.

talking of wellies…have you looked in your`s for the lost trowell?

I`ll pop down and have a cuppa with you soon.

is the cake carrot cake? love it! any ice cream to go with it, by any chance?

pollsx

I don’t have any wellies :frowning:

You can have any kind of cake you want and the ice cream is raspberry ripple.

Guests are welcome. The more the merrier :slight_smile:

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Thanks Cassie, anything that you have insoles in, hide.

Ok … silly question coming up … why?

My + 1 has an appetite for insoles, loves em, no shoe, boot or slipper is safe. More cake for everyone though, he doesn’t like it. Marmite is a different matter entirely, quite likes that, but not too much, it’s bad for him. Insoles however, pose no threat & he feels free to indulge in as many as he can get, regardless of whether the wearers feet are in the shoes or not. I hope your washing machine isn’t in said shed, he loves them as well, bit of a shocker when you need to do the washing, apart from that he is relatively well behaved, sort of.

Huh, yep, relating to the brain fog too, I enjoyed gardening the other day. Come 4 o’clock, my head was in the shed, could not find a single trowel, screwdriver (I poke the plants in and out with this), couldn’t even find the blasted broom! I thought I had been beamed up to an alternative garden where the gnomes had nicked everything.

Anyway, big pills, some food, massive sleep, new day, all blasted tools in strange places but I did find them. Now they are next to the shed, waiting for me to put them away properly in an orderly fashion. I am even going to brush the spilt dirt and stuff I threw on the floor in a temper, then I will transport any buzzy things outside and look for other things I might have dropped without knowing about it!

I love my shed, if I need a personal rant (bearing in mind there usually isn’t anyone to rant to), I just head off to the shed!

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I am pleased to announce that I am now the proud owner of a new grey and green trowel :slight_smile:

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pokes nose round the door - I had a cute pink flowery trowel set once, but it was so lovely that I didn’t want to get it dirty! Lost it ages ago when we tidied up the garden.

Never did get to use it after all.

Think I’ve still got one of the gloves tho.

Ummm…yeah, that’s it really.

shrugs and stands at said door looking awkwardly at my feet

i used to love my garden at my previous house, it was beautiful.

i worked on bolton market 3 days a week and when the plant sellers were packing up they would practically be giving them away.

we had to move once my sons went to high school and a 2 up, 2 down was too small.

our present house has tons of room but no garden.

i just have about 4 square metres at the front where i put some planters.

i loved tidying those up but i’m no longer able.

it made me sad to find my kneeling pad and hand trowel/fork set.

oh well time moves on.

carole x

Awww Carol, I really feel for you. What about treating yourself to one of those raised garden trugs? You could plant it up with some of your favourite plants. Just a thought

Hey, I’ve just mentioned​ the shed in the Brian fog thread…and I thought I was replying to this thread!

Now THAT is Brian fog at its best, innit?

Pollsx

Um mm … who’sent Brian ?

Super impressed with myself this morning. After a lousy night of coughing (asthma) I still managed to get lunch in the oven before we left for church. I even made a rice pudding , as am looking forward to a slice before I nod off this afternoon :slight_smile:

a SLICE of rice pudding? never had one of them, but can imagine it`s nice…with marmalade on it!

Congrats on today`s achievements!

pollsx

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I love my shed! I hoovered it the other day and chucked a lot of plant pots out. It is heavenly, I can sit in there reading a book, with the door open whilst it is piddling down. I can also taunt the birds by throwing out loads of crumbs and knowing that they really want to eat it all but try to sit out the wait until I have gone in the house. It never works, they are far too curious and fat bellied. I have pictures hanging up of my old rabbits and guinea pigs and most important, my Mum and Dad who are no longer with us.

I love my shed! I hoovered it the other day and chucked a lot of plant pots out. It is heavenly, I can sit in there reading a book, with the door open whilst it is piddling down. I can also taunt the birds by throwing out loads of crumbs and knowing that they really want to eat it all but try to sit out the wait until I have gone in the house. It never works, they are far too curious and fat bellied. I have pictures hanging up of my old rabbits and guinea pigs and most important, my Mum and Dad who are no longer with us.

Hating my parents as an er difficult teenager (I firmly believe there are no difficult children just difficult parents) - I digress - my parents decided to get me a hut to live in because I was ‘impossible to live with.’ Perhaps I shouldn’t have ‘persuaded’ younger perfectly behaved sister to let me cut her (perfect) hair nor should I have put a farty cushion in granny’s chair. Poor old girl didn’t realise it was there and apologised profusely when a loud rasping noise emanated from her nether regions. Oh and there was the egg custard episode which I can’t expand on.

Painted green it stood at the bottom of the garden - I loved it - only allowed in the house for meals and to sleep or when relatives or the social workers called. A kindly? neighbour had complained to SS as she felt ‘uncomfortable’ - (massive under statement) about what was going on in the household and so an eye was kept on us. Well what do you expect from a Polish/Welsh family?

tbh I think I was the root cause of the ‘uncomfortableness’

And so I became gloriously estranged form the family - were it not for my green hut I don’t think I’d have survived childhood – or maybe parents wouldn’t have survived my childhood.