‘The writer walks out of his workroom in a daze. He wants a drink. He needs it.’
‘Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still.’
Henry David Thoreau
‘If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.’
‘We are all inclined to judge ourselves by our ideals; others by their acts.’
‘All great truths begin as blasphemies.’
George Bernard Shaw
This is not my shed, but it is the height of my dream property ladder…
Can be quite capacious – non?
I have dragged most stuff out of one just now, to try and ram it into the other but having scattered stuff all over the garden I am now bored and in danger of being late for work. I have also jammed up the Henry hoover with cat litter (unused) and cobwebs (very much used).
I thought that a bit of action would make me feel a bit less like my skin had been removed overnight (anyone of a Winston Churchill persuasion will know what I mean by that) but actually it has just left me reeling and confused at the magnitude of the task of shed-tidying.
There is nothing for it but to abandon shed, walk the dog briefly and try and survive 4 hours of tutoring some poor adults who deserve a lot better than me, with my head stuck at home in the shed.