Nixon Street Shed

The Weekend. The shed. Saturday 19th January 2008; I awoke with no requirements, just spare time and a desire not to waste it. We planned to go for a bike ride later in the day, up to North Hobart, to the State Cinema - which now has 3 theatres, and always a good film starting every 1/2 hour, with cups of tea or scones, or a beer or a wine all at reasonable prices available to take into the theatre, or have at wooden tables in the cafe.

Photo: Snowy is 14. He has seen a few sheds, but presently loves this one. At all times of the year in the early morning, the sun first strikes the door of the shed at between 7am and 9am. At that time, Snowy places himself in the dirt beside the door, and warms hisself for the rest of the day. When the sun moves away, so does he. He changes with the season. He needs the sun, being a white dog.

Reflecting on the great service the State Cinema provides: the privelege of being able to run a restaurant adjacent to an 'essential' service like a cinema, should be preserved for those who genuinely provide a service. By contrast, I was at the aerodrome last week, and in the self service 'food outlet' with coffee making available, the cost of a half sandwich was $8.20. I commented "bit rich", and the servant replied "well, it is the airport". If I could nobble them somehow I would. They don't deserve the right to sell food or drink or anything where public interest is a consideration for grant of a licence, if they don't intend to provide a good and a reasonable service. If they are going to use their concession monopoly or more likely, if the head lessor is going to use the monopoly position to extract premium rent, requiring the sub-tenant to extract an unreasonably high price for goods or services, then they shouldn't be given a licence.

Back to the shed.

The shed is a safe haven. The bikes were partly in and partly outside the shed, so I appointed the first half hour of Saturday to clean out the shed. I started at 10am and finished at 5.30pm - time is a marvellous thing: it is not always the same. One half hour is not like another. Compare the half hour between 7.00am and 7.30am in the dead of winter when you lie in bed, when you should get up at 7.15am to go to work - it takes approximately 6 nano seconds.

I remember when the shed was replaced with a new one. Back in about 1994. The old one had its memories. But that is a separate story. Ask the Jones boys who used to be held there in detention custody for protection of society.

A shed is a place where you put things that might be needed or are needed but not everyday, and also where you put things which will never be needed, but you don't know that at the time. Never rubbish goes into the shed.

A shed may be said to reflect some of the user's character traits. Order or chaos, subliminal desires, a place of freedom and expression but utility and rarely a place of actual visual beauty, apart from that expression of utility.

Mind you, the external view of my shed has taken on elements of beauty: see this photo, through from the back door of the home, past the garden table and chairs, under the shade of the permatoliogioso tree, and along the path, that path to the deep psyche of man, beside the lemon tree (which itself has more than one use) to the door of the shed.

Yesterday, was the once in a few years attack on the accumulated rubbish (naturally, I threw out very little: to get into the shed an item must have some credibility as a potentially useful item) and more importantly and time consuming, the reorganisation of items into more logical arrangement. Papers into the roof in plastic boxes, bushwalking gear into the wardrobe, paint on the floor, gas bottles too, split up cleaning materials, bike gear, sport gear, woodworking, and metal working gear. Sweep all the dirt out, spray for bugs and spiders and ants. Put back the spare chairs, box of tools, gardening equipment, bike hats and bikes: all good.

But the aspect which was anticipated but the depth of which is only revealed by experiencing it, is the nostalgia. Items mostly continue to hold some memory triggering component. The hours of work for instance, that might have been put into making a 12 volt light attachment through the shed wall to see at night. Then when the electicity tension was too high, and the wires burned, the couplings and fittings retained the memory of the half day work, the 'best I could do myself' and the utter failure in the end: mind you, not a waste. A lot was learned.

As with the little clay engraved pencil holder, with pencil attached by string, and note book. "For you to make notes Daddy". One of the girls made it in about 1995, and I put it on the wall in the shed, knowing that one day I would like to make a note whilst in the shed, and it would be counterproductive to have to go back out to the house the get the note pad. The whole purpose would be to have a reminder for when I would get back to the house! The note pad is full, ready to be used for the first time (apart from one test to check the pencil works).

The old rags hidden in a bag for mopping up oil spills, cleaning things, and wiping hands: You can't throw away a good rag, even if all it does now is smear the oil spill, it stops it being something to slip on and fall into.

The prints of photos on the wall of the last clean up of the shed: Andy and I with a tonne of stuff on the lawn. The posters of the girls' birthday celebrations going back to aged 1, stuffed behind the wardrobe. The old suitcases: some should be used again, most won't. The times they were bought, and used for the first time: getting to Hong Kong, coming back from America, to Bali, from Europe, to Queensland, in the back of the Land Rover for the Outback trip, all with specific purposes originally, and now 'rusting' from non-use. The good suitacases are under the stairs: they get to be kept in the house.

The furniture oil used to paint the garden furniture: I remember doing that with the girls back in 1996; oil all over the place, and the furniture preserved for long term use: still used today.

So as the day drew to a close, the gear had been sorted, put back, discarded in some cases, and the bikes could be stacked for easy access.

Off to the pictures and down to Gusto Italiano for a celebratory meal!