Thursday 5 January 2017

MY DAD'S SHED...

Shed Contents

Jars of rivets and nails and washers,
Bolts and rawl-plugs and nuts and screws;
Drawers of rasps and files and bradawls,
Spanners and set-squares and hammers and, er, shoes…

Tins of plugs and switches and brackets,
Hinges and light-fittings and wires and taps;
Bags of shin-guards and golf-balls and wickets,
Footballs and bicycle pumps and bats and, er, maps…

Boxes of chair legs and saws and mallets,
Planes and screwdrivers and rulers and drills;
Stacks of planks and props and doors,
Dusters and brushes and cloths and, er, bills…

Rows of containers and paints and stripper,
Turpentine and spirit and polish and varnish;
Clutters of pipes and metal and bric-a-brac,
Age
And 
Rot
And
Rust
And, er,
Tarnish… 

Pete Ray

THE SHED IS ON THE LEFT...

HOW IT LOOKED BEFORE THE HOUSE WAS SOLD...

MOM IN THE GARDEN AT ITS BEST...

2009 & SOME WORK TO DO...

JUNGLE...

NEARLY A GARDEN AGAIN...


My Dad’s shed. 
All human life was there.
After he was unable to return to his house in Shard End because of his 

dementia, an awful lot of clearing out needed to be done and when the house was sold, his shed was a gloomy place to sort…

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