I have been living close to Pinoso in the mountains of Spain for over eight years now. Most of this time has been spent renovating my old country house, which could be likened to cleaning windows on the soon to be built Dubai Crown building: by the time I finish one bit the first needs doing again. But finally I found time to clear a plot of scrub land out back to create raised veggie beds. As my interest in horticultural pursuits increased so my collection of tools and gadgets accompanying it also grew, eventually spilling out of the storage space in what is soon to become our kitchen.
The time had come for a wooden shed, before the wife tripped over my rake, again, and went completely bonkers and banished me to the land of wind and ghosts. Now, if she temporarily packs me off for my eccentric hobbies I can at least find refuge in my shed. A good old wooden garden shed. Boy does it bring back memories: when I sneaked off to my dad’s shed for a sly smoke, the smell of apples racked out for winter storage, a bench with a vice and a tumble of plant pots in the corner. My wooden shed has that lovely – how can I describe it – woody smell, which is kind of obvious I guess. It doesn’t rain much here but when it does it comes in buckets. That’s the time to get comfy in the shed with a few beers and watch the elements batter my crops to near death. With some thunder and lightning thrown in, I’m as happy as a pig in you-know-what, except for the damage that is. The wooden shed is my little bolthole where I contemplate what to grow next, whether I could really get away with setting fire to Mariano Rajoy’s trousers, and who I would like to bury in my compost heap besides the bank manager and my mother-in-law. But seriously, although a wooden garden shed is nothing more than four timber walls a floor and a roof, it somehow seems much more, to me anyway. I suppose it’s those childhood memories again, when the shed was the closest thing I had to a den or a secret camp. But enough of this ethereal stuff and on to the practicalities of buying a garden shed.
I checked around in various garden centres and discount stores but eventually decided to have my shed built by a professional carpenter based close by on the border of Alicante and Murcia. Many local outlets sell cheap and flimsy sheds which wouldn’t last a Spanish winter and the winds that we have to endure. My decision rested on the fact that I wanted my garden shed to be solid, built to last, and not like some of the rickety things I’d seen during my quest. Woodworks Direct did the job exactly how I wanted it done. Good quality, stained timber (essential to keep chewing insects at bay) and a robust construction to thwart even the most determined and malevolent weather gods. After giving my specifications to them, the team came in a few weeks later and constructed my shed one morning – proper job. And another nice thing is that it looks just right sitting close-by to my veggie plot; it blends perfectly. My advice: get a pro to build your shed, the cost isn’t prohibitive and the end result is well worth the money, especially if you get banished by the missus.
