The Shed Saga

My friend's just phoned with news of her old 6'x6' shed. It's gone! She then spent an hour sweeping up the mess, spent two hours waiting at the local A&E where they removed splinters from her fingers and knees and now she wishes she had cremated the thing instead. "To blazes with it" is what she said. Her new Summerhouse arrives tomorrow so she's sewing curtains with four bandaged fingers. I didn't understand half the words but I suspect they were rude. I'll be getting my invite to the celebrity grand opening soon when she's found a local notary to cut the tape. (George Michael, The Queen, Daniel Craig and Basil Brush have all turned her down.) I expect she'll ask the local undertaker as she quite fancies him. I hope he smiles on the day or it will feel like we're attending one of his regular 'jobs.' One of my distant relatives is known to be on commission from this undertaker because her frown is set in cement so she was a natural choice. Anyway, I can't wait to see The Lodge (so called because she hunted high and low to find the right one for her, large enough to take a camping bed, strong enough to withstand her wild parties and insulated enough to muffle her squeals of delight when she's reading one of her magazines or books.) A photo of The Lodge may appear here in the future-no promises.