A Shed For All Seasons

A Shed for All Seasons

Julie Valentine

13 June 2015


(A writing exercise 300 words or more based on an article or report from this week’s local Paper)


One day sunshine, one day rain. Today it’s the turn of the rain and I am sitting here reading through my local paper thinking about the next project for the writing class I attend.

I must admit that there’s very little to inspire me today, so I may have to revert to rubbing down the two remaining wooden garden chairs and re-painting them with the lavender coloured wood preserver I bought two weeks ago.

Oh, well, perhaps I should finish reading the paper, there may be an article that jumps up and tickles my fancy.

Only the ‘Houses for Sale’ section left, I’m not convinced I will find anything to write about today!

I turn the page. The heading ‘Turn your attention to the modest shed’ has caught my attention, not only because in the photograph, the interior of the shed is painted in the same shade of lavender I am currently painting my garden chairs, but also because I quite fancy a garden shed, a bolt hole away from the telephones and television. A shed for all seasons.

Somewhere I can disappear to, summer or winter, where I can sit and write, listen to my music or just relax and snooze when the need takes me.

Let me see now, it must have a water supply; I am a continuous coffee drinker, so an electrical supply and a kettle are also a must. Not forgetting the high pitched mouse deterrent and the bottle of peppermint essence mixed with water to be sprayed around to discourage spiders.

I’ve never owned a chaise longue and can envisage one across a corner of the shed, with a pile of luxurious cushions and a soft wool wrap for chilly days.

Ummm, my mind is racing and I am really looking forward to my new garden shed. I think I would like something more than the two-door shiplap wooden shed, and would like to indulge my fantasy with a Shackadelic personalised retreat with décor accessories and hanging pots with butterflies sunning themselves on the walls.

The folded paper fell from my limp hand, the sound of it hitting the laminate flooring in my living room woke me. I must have dozed off again.

Now, what was I doing, oh yes, I must get my attention back to the ‘modest shed’.

Perhaps it’s not really a suitable subject for the writing class after all and of no interest to me whatsoever. I must have been dreaming because I live in a second floor flat with no balcony


(424 words without the heading)


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