Countryside Caper: Raise Shed; episode 2

Fortified by a night of Sharukh Khan (the man's growing on me... like a fungus!) wine, courgette and pnpc, Vinod and I make tracks for the summer house where plan B awaits; ignore next instructions in diagram book, and attack the door. We've got all the parts accounted for, but the sheet that pretends to be the door is missing some critical holes. Daal mein definitely khuch kaala hain! The vapid instruction book fails to show any illuminating pictures of a powerdrill at this stage, but much manhandling later, we come to the inescapable conclusion that several holes are going to have to be drilled before the horizontal patra turns from coyly swaying hula skirt to defendable door. Damn!

Back to Plan A 6.545. The sun mocks down on us, a day too late, as we hammer and screw into place the rest of the walls (!). Right. It's time for the damned roof. Logic gives way to lateral thinking, and we poke, prod, shove, bend, manipulate and swear..... all in vain. The Aussies have fucked up. It's either getting the middle right, or the ends. We interupt the session for some more ice-cream and the drafting of a strongly worded letter of complaint to Treco for their appalling kit. Plan A 16.794 and we're laying the last of the patra overhead, and I wave forlornly as both Vinod and the sun disappear from view, and I'm left to screw on the last of the bolts. But wait! Down under strikes again, and now we have a sunroof!! One overlap too many with no place to screw it down. How difficult can it be for a manufacturer of sheds to punch holes in the right places and cut tin to the right sizes???? Manufactured in Germany in strict conformity to Australian standards... GAH! This is what happens when you give a bunch of prisoners the right to vote.

Right. We have a lean to. With a sunroof and minus a door, and holes that have to be blocked.... but hey! It's a lean to! Imported city girl cheap menial labour has done as much as she can do, and is rewarded by a tour of the Doctor's SERIOUS power tools (petrol/diesel run).... and a promise to let her wield them à la Jason (or was it Freddie??) on the hedges in the not so distant future. God, this man is just so hot! Hefting the chainsaw makes me forget the crick in my neck, the stabbing protest of the muscles in my lower back and the pained begging of mercy of my knees, and I'm all smiles over the farewell cup of tea and chocolate biscuits. Jan pithily points out the the summer house has an extension, while the main house is still languishing, waiting for 2010 to roll around... such is life.