A WOMAN'S SHED

There is nothing better than tea time and a good read. As a new mother my tea was herbal and my books were fiction: I drifted off on imaginary adventures with my beloved characters in books whose worlds of romance, courage and epic journeys seemed so very far from the uneventful, yet often panic-stricken, pattern of a babymoon. I've always loved reading, and for such diverse reasons. Nowadays you can give me absolutely any book about gardening and crafting and do-it-yourself how-tos and I'm giggling with glee.

When I came across A Woman's Shed by Gill Heriz at our local library, I got quite giddy with excitement, and really couldn't wait to get home and settle into it with a hearty cuppa!

I was inspired just by the title, so everything I discovered upon reading it, was like eating icing all the way. I have been wanting some sort of shed for ages. In Scotland we had a shed, but it was full of gardening gear, old appliances, and bikes, so there wasn't much space for anything else. And it was dark. Instead we had a sun-kissed conservatory, which was really just a plain old sun-room. We spent most of our days in there. We had art hanging from the walls and toys everywhere; with a giant freecycled table that we used for everything from birthday parties to lego building. It was like living in the sun, or as much of it as we could have up north.

Coming home to Cape Town meant so many things, and for so many reasons I want a small space to daydream and to ponder, to cry sometimes, and sometimes to paint my nails; a space that I can stamp with my energy, that I don't have to share, unless I want to. I can close the door on my shed and step back into our home, our community and our world; yet always know I have my space. It would be a cosy space to read a book; tucked away at the bottom of the garden, where my children could join me to soak up the winter sun, or listen to a story read from a favourite book. I could paint there. Or potter. I could make the things that flow out of me like jewelled melodies, ready to adorn our home, or be given to a friend. Little things, little gifts. Perhaps I shall again write. I once drowned all the poems I had ever written. I haven't written since. If I put enough light in me, then the darkness of my poetry will no longer hide the colour of my thoughts. There's more. I want the shed, my shed, for quiet meditation, visualization, and also for comfort. I wouldn't call it a hideaway; it would be more like a healing hovel. And it would be mine. With so much inspiration from the book, I am already thinking up ideas for my shed. But first, some tea!!