Shedding

Our shed is somewhat TARDIS-like in that it looks quite small from the outside and yet inside there appears to be a lot of stuff. I mean, most of that stuff is in a massive pile precariously balanced on the garden bench and you can’t actually get any further than just opening the door. Oh and it doesn’t travel in time or space. So it’s probably not that TARDIS-like at all, really.

What I meant to say was, our shed is full.

I had cause to visit the shed today to retrieve a saw. A saw which was so near and yet just far enough away that I had to sort of slide across the top of two bags of garden waste (prickly garden waste) and a wood panel from the side of the wardrobe in the back bedroom, complete with tetanus-giving nails in order to reach it. As I was – I believed – the only person outside at the time, there was a great deal of muttering and swearing. All of which led to me getting the saw and humming one of the many gaming refrains you will hear upon collecting a thing of great importance.

Turns out, I was not alone in the outside world. Several gardens over was a man who lives on the end of the street. Let’s call him John, because that is his name. He was outside. He was in a garden. Not his own garden. But the one next door to him, he was collecting foliage. I did not know he was doing this as when I went outside he must have been bent down in such a way that the wendy house in the next garden over hid him from view.

But as I emerged from the shed, sweary and slightly covered in cobwebs and other things I didn’t wish to think of, he reared up like a myopic meerkat. John wears glasses. The ones that are thick enough to see through time itself. He stared at me through those – I knew he was looking because he did that thing that a lot of very short-sighted people do which is too look at you with their mouth open. In much the same way as sticking your tongue out somehow improves concentration and performance, looking at someone or something in the distance while you mouth is wide open improves your visual acuity.

True fact.

I’m not sure he actually knows who I am, though. He talks to Carole everytime he sees her. But he blanks me all the time. Even when I’m with Carole. I assume it’s because I have stolen the place in her heart he hoped he could get his hands on, but I don’t know. Either way, he just watched me emerge from the shed, dust myself off and disappear into the house looking for all the world like a mole in an anorak.

I need to start getting out more.