Shed Roof

Mum and Dad are very independent and are still doing jobs in the house and garden that I would either put off or pay somebody else to do. 

Usually, my offers of help get turned down and I feel I haven’t been terribly useful, apart from driving them on outings.

But last time, I was more insistent and instead of rejecting my offer at once, I could see Dad turning it over: “There is one thing…”

“Good,” I thought.  “Maybe a little weeding in the garden or a touch of spring cleaning in the house.”

 “…The shed needs re-roofing.”

My heart sank.

The garden shed was a large one – ten foot by five.  It was nearly as old as me (i.e. old) and was gradually attaining a rhomboidal profile as it sagged over the years (unlike me, I’d like to point out).

Was re-roofing even feasible?  In many places, the wood was rotten.  Inside lived scary, poisonous false widow spiders.

“That’s fine Dad.  How are we going to do it?”

“Like I’ve done it the last two times.”  He produced a large plastic tarpaulin and together we hauled it over the shed roof. 

He then handed me a rather small staple gun and it was my job to ping in the six million staples needed to attach the tarpaulin round the eaves. 

The staple gun jammed on every tenth shot and nipped my fingers as I fought with it.  The sun came out and made me sweat in the long-sleeved top I’d donned against the spiders.

But when I finally screwed the guttering back into place, I had a definite feeling of satisfaction – this time I really had been useful.