Growing up I spent alot of time at my Aunts and Uncles. I’d climb into their campervan when they were trying to leave our house and sometimes it worked and they’d take me with them. I have many fond memories of being there and tagging along with my older cousins. Brown Mini. Abba Gold. Meccano.
Uncle Reg’s shed is a bona fide fully functioning woodworking haven. Complete with proper bench, lathe and wall to wall tools, it has that very special ingredient only a real shed has; the warming, woody, varnishy smell that you don’t get anywhere else. Reliving the smell when this photo was taken was very special. Solitaire. Cheese and crackers.
Our own garden shed was a Dexion infested, fishing tackle and paint tin mosh pit, so being able to actually get in to one and bang a couple of bits of wood together was a rare and memorable treat. Thanks Uncle Reg.
