Today’spoem

Right ONE can’t now MAN recall I really AND HIS SHED How That bond there’s many between times a special it’s said, A This fellow shed’s and been his shed. in the family For And many now finally a long, I’m long year,

I spend getting most on days in here. But forbidden, I recall the as a time boy, I was To rows touch of the tools shelves and That were Dad’s pride and joy. Yet (no once longer I was an a unruly teenager kid), I learned the tools to use and love As much as dear Dad did. On I’d always holidays come from in college here, To savour the familiar smells While knocking back a beer. In due course I got wed, And moved to some smart,

trendy place, But how I wished I had a shed To call my private space. My parents later passed away, And as they’d always said, Bequeathed to me my

childhood home And Dad’s beloved shed. I’ve tried to keep it as it was When I was just a lad, In some ways it’s become

a shrine — A homage to my Dad. From time to time I patch it up, To keep out all the weather, And now it’s just the

gaffer tape That’s holding it together. Many’s the time I snuck out here Throughout my married life, To get away from noisy kids, (And sometimes from the wife!) But now she’s gone, the kids

have left, And I’m here on my own, But still I find great solace In my special comfort zone. I s’pose it won’t be very long, Until I, too, am dead, But in the meantime

I’m content To potter in my shed.

I. G. Fenner, New Milton, Hants.