Blaming The Tools – Part One

Let’s talk tools. Trump, he’s a ‘tool.’ As is Theresa May. And other so called leaders of the ‘free’ world that flout basic human rights. Privatise institutions conceived for the greater good of their citizens to turn a quick buck.

I believe completely in contributing to a society that truly cares about each other. Rather than the self-serving free market, capitalist greed that permeates our current situation.

But what’s this got to do with sheds? Well, what better place to hang out with a friend and put the world to rights. No friends? No bother! Being alone in a shed and musing over vast political issues is preferable to stewing in the workplace, or the bath for that matter, a cafe, garden centre, pub even a car with Rage Against The Machine turned up to the max. Perhaps if world leaders negotiations took place in a shed with a mug of tea and packet of digestives there might be less conflict in this world?

Why not add a small project into the mix? Might teach these moronic greed mongers how to work together? Imagine Trump and Putin ‘nutting’ out some political hot potato whilst constructing a veggie box together. Trump would be trying to nail the boards onto the frame and they’d keep failing, “I’m telling you Vlad these fucking nails are shit, either that or this hammers less ‘true’ than a politicians promise. Did you bring these nails, are they Russian?” Vlad cool as a Russian cucumber would respond “Eazee ‘Bigley’ boy, only a worakman of poor character vwood blame his tool. Dese are Yankee nails, the same ones you used to secure the lid before you buried the EPA. Shut up your moanink and pass me anudder digestive.”

Probably wouldn’t make a difference, would it? There’s no way Trump would share his bikkies.

So let’s talk about real tools? Which are without a doubt almost as essential as the Shed itself. A Shed without a decent amount of tools is as useful as a carpenter without fingers. Which if you’ve seen my technique with ‘working’ timber could be a premonition.

To guarantee the retention of my digits I could just create the illusion of productivity. Achievable by simply disappearing into the shed for some hours at the weekend and whistling. Intermittent bursts of fake drill fire would add to the deceit, as would wearing a short orange lead pencil behind the left ear. However one would need a Shed with enough space to potentially make something to get away with such deception. This is where my Shed falls down, figuratively. It’s really only just big enough to store a few essentials. Put a wheelbarrow, four saws and five pots of paint in it and there’s not even a spot for me to stand. The people in my house know this, so I’m pulling the wool over no one’s eyes.

And now we’ve purchased a bunch of tools they can’t forever exist in a state of redundancy, these expensive acquisitions have to be justified.

So where to begin? I needed a project that was functional and achievable. I didn’t want to fail spectacularly. A real man would have leapt into deep swirling wood chip waters and attempted a reproduction gothic wardrobe. I settled for a small shelf about eight inches square. Solely designed for the purpose of displaying an animal skeleton. I did consider the folly of the aforementioned wardrobe for a fraction of a second but my Grandads wisdom intervened from the other side. I recalled his words. He told me “People shouldn’t run before they can walk. And you should get the bus.”

A small shelf it was then. Surely even I could manage one of those. How hard could it be to make two straight cuts in a large piece of black coated ply anyway? I suppose we’ll find out.

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