Jonny McCambridge: One brave man takes on a two-person job...and builds a wee shed

Even a shed needs a little love and attention and, like a selfish spouse, I neglected it over time. And, as I filled it with more and more junk, it began to disintegrate.

First, the floor collapsed. Then vines from next door’s garden began to grow through the wood panels. Then a hole appeared in the ceiling.

Not a little gap which could be stuffed or filled, but a proper chasm which you could imagine a stunt motorcyclist trying to jump over in a daredevil aerial challenge. In truth, the shed reached the end of its natural life years ago. My wife had long been pleading for me to act. But I’m a slow starter and I did nothing, allowing the shed to deteriorate further.

The walls started to collapse, the door fell off. By the end there was very little left. Months of rain entering the shed had destroyed all of the contents. Finally, much too late, I was forced to do something. I rented a skip and emptied 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 it down. This consisted of the enjoyable task of wildly swinging a sledgehammer.

The demolition of the old shed was just the beginning.

Now I was faced with the urgent need for shelter for my lawnmower (my wife was unwilling to let me bring it into the dining room).

So, I went online and ordered a new shed, much smaller than the original, 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 driver would text me to let me know when he would be delivering.

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 in my beard. 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, finally, I put on my old pair of jeans (well, my only pair of jeans), and started.

The instruction booklet was 40 pages long. The first part I read said: Two-person assembly required. Do not undertake on your own, you flipping idiot. (I may have invented that last bit).

I scratched my head and looked around the empty garden.

I decided to plough on. I set out the parts and ensured all the fittings were present.

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. In truth, 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 'hmmmmm' 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 of Australia. I spent a lot of time making sure I used the right bits.

The roof was the trickiest part. This is where another person would have been useful.

I found that as I attached one side of the roof to the wall fixing, then the opposite popped out. Then when I tried to remedy the facing side by fixing it into place, the original side popped out.

This went on, 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 it 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 work out because it was too soft underfoot.

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.

It won’t win any awards but the end product was pleasing to the untrained eye. Then I slid the newly built shed on top and began to fill it with tools. About five minutes after I finished, it began to rain.

I sipped coffee until the shower passed and then I stepped outside again and admired my work, basking in self-satisfaction at an achievement that I genuinely feared might be beyond my abilities.

I opened and closed the door several times and ran my hands along the walls. I could feel the exhaustion caused by the unfamiliar strain of manual labour entering my limbs.

I stepped back and took one last look at my smart new shed. I had one final thought: "It really does look just like a Portaloo.”