A shed of one's own
As we sit in our centrally heated houses, amid the trappings of consumerism, do we, as adults, crave that simpler life? Is there a collective primal memory of a more elemental existence that gives us direct contact with the few things we need in order to live? When we enter our sheds, we see a table, a chair, a bench, boxes of tools, seeds, a simple stove, a kettle. We can pretend, play, create, be ourselves, and find freedom from the paraphernalia of everyday life.
When we were young we tried to understand the mystery of our fathers disappearing into their sheds, their own private realms. But as girls then and as women now, we, too, have built, converted and kitted out spaces of our own. Women, too, have sheds.
When the idea for my book, A Woman’s Shed, arose, I keyed in the words ‘women’s sheds’ on the internet, which led to the digital universe scratching its patriarchal head. The initial response was that ‘shed’ meant losing weight.
A second attempt brought the reply, ‘Did you mean “men’s sheds?” No, I did not! I tried again. ‘Did you mean “women’s shoes?”’
In the West, women have been primarily identifi ed as ‘homemakers’, even when they have paid work outside the home. Women have snatched moments and spaces for their own creativity, while dealing with the demands of domestic and working lives. Nevertheless, in this context, ‘the shed’ has been a sanctuary for men to ‘retreat’ to or for women to be ‘banned’ from. Thus it has never been known as a space for women.
The greenhouse (centre), made of cast iron and almost 100 years
old, is grand compared to Brenda’s shed (above). At night, it
becomes an enchanting space, lit only by candles
Women as gardeners may be the exception to this generalisation, but what’s certain is that, historically, women have built, bought and converted spaces for themselves for a variety of reasons and for a wide range of uses. And they still are. Here are some of the most interesting.
A Woman’s Shed, by Gill Heriz, is published by CICO Books (£19.99).