For years my husband has coveted our neighbour’s shed. It’s not a big shed, just large enough for some children’s toys and a barbecue. Nor is it fancy - simply a bog standard 6x2, in brown. But the pull for Sam has always been the potential. If he had a shed like that, he reasoned, he could store his bike instead of lugging it up the cellar steps every time the sun shone. And store stuff, like saws. 

Until recently, I’ve always found a reason to delay the project, mainly because of the pre-faff involved. All the gardening books drone on about the importance of a strong, level base for the structure to sit on. Our patch of lawn is basically a boggy slope, so I knew this would mean flagging of some sort. Then there’s the issue of having to work with each other as a team to assemble it. Hmmm. And the other thing, well, the main thing for me really, is that I just don’t like the look of sheds. I’d much rather have some lovely swishy grass or staggered planters. 

But I finally relented on the condition that I got to pick the design and position in the back yard. My only regret is not doing it sooner. I honestly don’t think I’ve seen him this happy since Bradford City were promoted in 2013 (we won’t mention the recent relegation thing). As a man known more for his poker face than effervescence, to see the corners of his mouth gently twitch upwards when the flat-pack arrived on a palette, was nothing short of tear-jerking. Finally, he’d got his very own 6x3 (yes, an extra foot) on his very own patio, for his very own bike and saws. 

We set to with the instructions, laying out all the components to ensure they matched the pictures in the pamphlet. The drill was charged up and packs of screws decanted into cereal bowls, for ease. It took us the majority of the weekend to erect what a joiner could have boshed up single-handedly in 45 minutes. A joiner probably wouldn’t have put the hinges on backwards, got the flooring batons wonky or drilled out too much of a gap for the hasp and staple. But hey, we’re still talking. And if you tilt your head ever so slightly to the right and squint, it looks quite presentable.  

But Sam didn’t stop there. Just as I plonked down on a deckchair with a celebratory brew, he emerged from the basement with more planks of wood, some brackets and a selection of curtain poles and hooks. He was pimping his hut and nobody could stop him. It must be the most practical lean-to interior this side of the Pennines. It’s just a shame the lawn had to be re-seeded due to the devastation during our build, because now, nobody’s allowed to walk across the garden to access the shed until the grass has grown back.