24 July 2026
The shed makes all the difference
Its scent is burnished pine
It’s clean and empty. On its shelf
I’ll put what’s old but mine:
A roll of Plenty paper, a basket full of string
A pair of parcels, soon to go, a medicine for sting.
The old shed was a cardboard hut
The rats adored and chewed
They chomped through everything they could
And then came back. Cat mewed
But they ignored his warning, and clamped his leg. He cried
His cancer was their fault, I’m sure. I gave up when he died.
I paced the cottage all the time
Still searching for his fur
His lumps of snowballed fury
His so-contented purr
I’ll miss him till my end of days, I talk to him and try
Imagining his soft return before I said goodbye.
I’ll never own another Cat
I couldn’t stand the pain
My Sloop heard all the details
I won’t repeat again
But life goes on, they tell me,
So rats can stay away
I’ll feed the birds and celebrate
My new shed’s brand new day.
With gratitude to all my friends who made time to come to mine this
summer to celebrate the old-fashioned happiness of Tea in the Garden.
As this photograph reveals, my tiny courtyard is given grace and space by cleverly arranged furniture, neat but colourful borders and a brand new shed.
Lovely collage by Paul Downes