The\nShed<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Andrew\nsat in the worn armchair, with his notebook and a stub of pencil. His\nscribblings were keeping him sane at this difficult time. He couldn\u2019t seem to\nstir himself to do the things he used to do. Walks into town, lunch at the\nlocal caf\u00e9, even visits to his son had no appeal. He\u2019d always liked to write, though.\nEven as a little\u2019un. He would disappear into his imagination and all he needed\nwas a notebook and pencil. He had never had anything published but his attempts\namused Alice, Charlie, and the grandkids, over the years. You should make a\nbook of your funny poems they used to say. Not that he felt like writing\nanything funny these days, but the act of writing seemed to soothe him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He\nhad come out to his shed as he felt claustrophobic in the house. Many a happy\nhour had been spent in here, in this old chair, eyes closed, listening to the\nradio. He looked around his old shed for inspiration and began \u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Andrew\u2019s shed <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Biscuit tins, advertising long lost\nbrands, full of \u2018bits and pieces\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Chair, worn arms, oozing stuffing<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Drill bits, unused now there is no-one\nto make things for<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Electric tools used to improve their new\nhome, many moons ago<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Flowering plants\u2019 a well-thumbed book\nhis love used, to design their once beautiful garden<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Gardening gloves 2 sizes, small no\nlonger required <\/strong>(He would keep them\nthough.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hats to keep his bald head warm, or\nprotect it from the sun <\/strong>(Alice always\nshouted \u201cDon\u2019t forget your hat!\u201d when he went out into the garden.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Insects buzzing at the windows<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Jars with screw topped lids, full of\nnuts and bolts<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Kneeler, a present from a grandson he\nrarely sees<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Letters in an old box, from the only\ntime he and his love were separated <\/strong>(Until\nnow)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Memories \u2013 all that he has left <\/strong>(But what amazing memories they were.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nails of different sizes<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Organic compost drying in its bag<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Plant pots of all sizes, crusty with\nsoil<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Questions buzzing round his brain like\nthe flies at the window <\/strong>(\u2018Why?\u2019)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rusty tools, once tenderly cared for<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Spade, hung on the wall for the last few\nmonths<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Tins that used to contain coffee and\ncustard powder now concealing who knows what<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Urn, containing \u2026\u2026\u2026. <\/strong>(He couldn\u2019t bring himself to think about it.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Vice on his sturdy<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Workbench, with his<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n tool boX<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Yellowing newspapers from years ago<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zzzzzzzz dozing in the stuffy warmth<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\nreally felt like he could doze off now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat the \u2026..?\u201d Andrew was startled awake by a\nloud smash. He struggled to his feet, using the arms of the chair to push\nhimself up with a groan. He looked blearily around. The thin glass window had\nbeen smashed. An \u2018England\u2019 football lay in the middle of the wooden floor\nsurrounded by shards of glass. He opened the door to his shed and peered out.\nNo-one to be seen but he heard voices from over the fence at the end of his\ngarden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He\nclimbed gingerly onto an upturned crate and looked over the fence. Standing in\nthe garden that backed onto his was a small boy and, presumably, his mum. The\nlook on their faces told Andrew that they knew what had happened. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m\nso sorry Mr \u2026\u2026..\u201d said the lady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m\nAndrew. Don\u2019t worry. I\u2019m sure the little man didn\u2019t mean any harm. Easily mended,\u201d\nhe responded kindly. He could remember when his Charlie had been that age. It\nsaddened him that he and his grandchildren lived so far away that visits were\nfew and far between.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s\nvery generous of you, Andrew. I\u2019m Katie. Perhaps Sam can help you fix it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell,\ngive me time to clear away the glass and then he can pop round and give me a\nhand if he wants.\u201d Andrew thought it would be nice to have a bit of young\ncompany.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He\nwalked back into the shed and swept away all the glass. Shortly after Sam\nappeared carefully carrying a small plate with 2 slices of homemade cake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMum\nsays here is something to keep us going, and there will be coffee waiting for\nyou if you want it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The\ncake was lovely and moist and the two spent a happy half hour with Sam handing\ntools as Andrew boarded up the broken window. When it was done Andrew tidied up\nas Sam looked around the shed gently touching tools and tins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis\nis like a cave full of treasure,\u201d he breathed, his eyes wide. Andrew ruffled\nhis hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell\nyou are welcome to come and help me any time, young man. Let\u2019s get you back to\nyour mum now. I think I could do with that coffee.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As\nthey stepped out of the shed, Andrew noticed for the first time, what a\nbeautiful day it was. The sun shone and there was a gentle breeze carrying the\nsong of the garden birds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He\nhad coffee in Katie\u2019s bright and cheery kitchen. As they chatted he discovered\nthat they had only recently moved in, that she was a single mother (no mention\nof Sam\u2019s dad) and had no friends or family nearby. Eventually he told her about\nAlice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m\nso sorry,\u201d she said, putting her hand on his arm. \u201cIt sounds like you had a\nlovely marriage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When\nhe thought it was time he should leave them to it, Andrew reluctantly said his\ngoodbyes at the door. As he stepped into the porch he felt his foot sink into\nthe flooring slightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHave\nyou got a problem here, love?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh\nthat. It\u2019s just the floorboards are a bit rotten under the mat. There must have\nbeen some water coming in at some time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\ncan have a look at that for you if you like,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ve got lots of spare\ntimber in my shed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell\nif it\u2019s no trouble \u2026..\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot\nat all. And if there\u2019s anything else needs doing, you let me know,\u201d he said as\nhe walked back to his garden whistling.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Shed Andrew sat in the worn armchair, with his notebook and a stub of pencil. His scribblings were keeping him sane at this difficult time. He couldn\u2019t seem to stir himself to do the things he used to do. Walks into town, lunch at the local caf\u00e9, even visits to his son had no […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"_themeisle_gutenberg_block_has_review":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-402","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t