So we’ve been living in the shed a year and 2 months, and this summer has been a completely different experience than last year, Thank Goodness!! I could not have done that fly-infested misery again!

The interior of the shed has been fairly fine since about mid-2018, and we’ve been slowly improving the outside. The pearl (or swine) of which, has been our steep, rocky, clay-y and generally off-putting excuse for a driveway.. many of my friends (particularly those with nicer cars – have chosen to either park at the top and slip and slide their way down to see us, or just always invite us to theirs or to meet elsewhere. Not that I blame them, I’ve had a couple of hairy moments myself on that driveway – the most notable when my husband was trying to get a digger on a trailer out. It was too heavy and despite three tries with good run-ups, it would NOT go all the way up. A man’s adventure; a mother’s nightmare – knowing her kids were in the back seat! I had to go and hold the ute steady while my husband got out (a driver change worthy of an action movie) to back the digger off the trailer, and bring it up separately. Just as he was about to start it up, a neighbour in shining armour turned up (he’d been watching the unfolding action over a coffee on a patio further up the hill) and used his grunty four-wheeling beast to pull both our ute and the digger/ trailer up the rest of the hill. Crisis averted, but both kids and Mummy shaken, and Daddy shaking his head at us. Bah. Even if he did pee his pants just a little, like Mummy, you know he’d never admit it anyway.

So. Concrete. Lots and lots of concrete. About 12 truckloads and $20,000 smackaroonies later, to be precise-ish. We did all the way down the driveway, a large area in front of the shed for parking and turning, all down one side, and up the back. A sea of concrete, if you will. Aaah. be-youtiful.

Nek’ minute, kids are wailing as they have 15 skinned knees between the 2 of them, and running out of different coloured bandaids to put on each one. Still, Mummy doesn’t have to wash 3 loads of brown clothing per week, and the kids will learn to respect the concrete just as Mummy does.

*Unexpected Newsflash: when you have a whole lot of nice clean concrete, the feeling Mummy has when kids throw stones and dirt all over it are akin to her feelings when she has just vaccumed and has to watch an army of men with muddy boots walk all over the carpet. (For every action, there is an equal and unexpected reaction.) Mummy will just have to get over it, because the concrete is staying and it’s awesome.


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