The shed is still full of The Predecessor's stuff. There are tools buried under there. Old chairs. A hosepipe, netting to keep birds off the beds, several pairs of old boots, bits of wood, watering cans, an occasional table, saws, a child's toy wheelbarrow.... At least one mouse lives there. The plan was to buy a new shed and demolish this one. But now, that feels a bit Daesh, or Year Zero. It might be older than me, probably is. So one fine day I'll get it emptied out, put aside anything worth keeping, and learn to live with it. On an allotment, you need a place to get out of the rain. Eventually I want a wee log-burning stove to make a cup of tea, (plenty of wood, especially once the hedgerow's got up a head of steam). And anyway, you know, it's so kind of beat, in the Keroucian sense.
So it's reprieved. With apologies. No more insulting references to "the shed". It's The Shed.