Jonny McCambridge: Embracing DIY by building a garden shed

Regular readers will know that I’ve never counted DIY as one of my strongest life skills.
The completed shed ... or is it a Portaloo?The completed shed ... or is it a Portaloo?
The completed shed ... or is it a Portaloo?

I’m more than willing to have a go at manual tasks. But, like a dog distracted by pigeons during its daily walk, I often have trouble staying on the right path.

However, despite my limitations, it had become clear that something would have to be done about the shed situation.

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When I moved into my current house some years ago, I became the owner of a large, wooden garden shed. As my house has no garage, the shed became the dumping ground for all non-essential items.

The architectural masterpiece under constructionThe architectural masterpiece under construction
The architectural masterpiece under construction

In short, it was filled to bursting point with rubbish. Old CDs and cassettes, various kitchen gadgets, unwanted ornaments, garden tools, a pool table, a dart board.

And books, thousands and thousands of books.

But even a garden shed needs a little love and attention and, like a selfish spouse, I neglected it over a long period of time. And as I filled the shed with more stuff, it began to slowly disintegrate.

First the floor started to collapse. Then vines from next door’s garden grew through the wood panels. Then a hole appeared in the ceiling. Not a little gap which could be stuffed or filled, but a proper hole which you could imagine a stunt motorcyclist trying to jump over in a daredevil aerial challenge.

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In truth, the shed reached the end of its natural life a long time ago. And it was also a long time ago that my wife started pleading for me to do something about it.

But I’m a slow starter and I did nothing, allowing the shed to deteriorate further. The walls were coming apart, the door fell off. By the end there was very little left. Rain had destroyed all of the contents beyond any useful state.

Finally, much too late, I was forced to act.

I rented a skip and undertook the unpleasant act of emptying the shed. At times I was ankle-deep in sludge as water damaged books disintegrated in my hands.

Once it had been gutted, I knocked what was left of the shed down. This consisted of the enjoyable task of me wildly swinging a sledgehammer. On the odd occasion I even struck the piece of wood I was aiming at.

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The demolition of the sad, old shed was the first part of the equation. Now I was faced with the urgent need for shelter for my lawnmower, barbecue, bike and tools.

So, I went online and ordered a new shed. Much smaller than the old model, plastic and (apparently) one that could be built at home. This new shed would be just for essentials.

The online purchase process included a guarantee that the delivery driver would text me to let me know when he would be dropping off the item.

He didn’t.

Instead a large lorry arrived unexpectedly at my house at 9pm on a Friday night when I was in my pyjamas and had half of a bag of popcorn caught in my beard.

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The jolly delivery men left the large cardboard box in my back garden. I stalked it for a couple of days like a hungry cat eyeing its prey.

And then, one sunny day, I cut the ties on the box.

The instruction booklet was 40 pages long. The first part I read said: Two person assembly required. Do not undertake on your own, you bloody idiot (or something like that).

I scratched my head and looked around. My son was racing toy cars around the garden. I decided to plough on.

I set out the parts and ensured all the fittings were present. Then I went and had a cup of coffee as I tried to mentally reconcile myself with the task.

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In truth, this is not proper DIY. It’s really just following instructions, like doing a big jigsaw. It’s not like I’m cutting down a tree, chopping up the wood and fashioning a shed from the timber. But we all have to exist within our own capabilities.

I started to put together the floor. Then the walls. Then I stuck them together. It didn’t fall over and looked oddly shed-like.

Encouraged, I went on.

The actual building of the shed was not the most time-consuming bit. That honour belonged to reading the instructions, scratching my chin and saying ‘flipping heck’ a lot as I searched for the right bit.

There were hundreds of screws, all in little plastic bags with strange codes. While the s13b screw may have looked identical to the naked eye to the dS26bg screw, I couldn’t shake the fear that to use the incorrect one might have grave, unknown consequences. Like triggering a mega-tsunami which washes away the whole east coast of the United States. I spent a lot of time making sure I used the right screws in the right places.,

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The roof was the trickiest part. This is where another person would have been really useful. I found that as I attached one side of the roof to the wall fixing, then the opposite side popped out. Then when I tried to remedy the facing side by fixing it into place, the original side popped out.

This went on for some time, leaving me feeling rather flustered and foolish. It was a conundrum I eventually solved by weighing one side of the roof down with a large bag of rice. Unconventional perhaps, and not something I’ve ever seen on a home improvement programme on the telly, but it worked.

Once the door, window and air vents were attached, the shed was complete. It had taken me four hours.

But the task was not yet over. I now had to create a level and firm base for the shed to rest upon. Building a proper foundation with concrete was a little too ambitious, and my original plan to rest it on a bed of sand didn’t really work out because it was too soft.

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So, I set about creating a solid base from flagstones left over when our back yard was paved.

My rough idea was that I wanted the base to be somewhere close to level. Close was acceptable. On my hands and knees with my little spirit level I laid the flagstones upon the sand before sliding the newly-built shed on top.

I stepped back and took a look at my smart, new shed.

Then I had one last thought: ‘God, it really does look just like a Portaloo.’

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