My shed

Today is going to heaven day. Hemelvaart. Another day off. We're spoilt, we really are. Two public holidays in one week.

Shed day. Today was that, too. Our garden shed. It sits in the bottom-right hand corner of our garden. I can wave to it from where I sit. . . . I just have waved to it. No reaction. Antisocial bastard shed.

Dolores got suspicious when I took a couple of photos of the shed just now. "You're going to blog about the shed, aren't you? Claiming you did all the work. Typical! It's always the same, Ronald. I have to do everything and you just sit there drinking beer!"

That's so unfair. Truthful, but horribly, even psychopathically, unfair.

I won't deny that I was intending to highlight my own particular contributions to the restoration of our shed. ("That's where you'll be living now, kids. With Lucas. He has the floor." "But there isn't room for us and Lucas in there." "OK then, you can have the whole shed to yourselves. Lucas will have to make do with the spare room.") The passing of the hammer, the holding of the door. What did Ricki (Dolores's sister) do? Just hammer in the nails, screw in the screws and crawl on the roof of the shed to attach the corrugated fibre glass plates. And clear the roof first of rotted leaves and bird poo. She did clean out the inside of the shed, too. What did I tell you - nothing compared to my hardcore holding-things and standing-around duties.

Ricki is so lazy. While I'm usefully employed typing this on the computer, she's lounging around vacuum-cleaning our kitchen. "Hoy. There's a couple of dirty plates in the sink. Quicky, quicky cleanee platee." Pity she doesn't understand English. "Du hast das aber gut gemacht, Ricki. Gehe jetzt schlafen, das hast du verdient, Schatz."

I can now hear myself talk. Ricki has finally stopped making all those irritating vacuum-cleaning noises. She insisted on making it all way around the living room, as well as the kitchen. Show a bit of consideration, girl.

My theme. Where is it? In the photographs. Can't see it? Put your glasses on, grandad. Just to the left of the shed door. Thanks Andy. Dolores thinks it's a great plant pot holder. I'm not going to argue with her. I enjoy having a complete set of genitalia.