Oh no. The husband has announced his intention to build the mother of all sheds. He has been clearing the garden and a vision for restructuring it entirely and building a shed/games room/garden house has formed itself in his mind. This means that every particular of it must now be implanted in my mind and my enthusiasm must be wholehearted.

I arrived home from the cottage to be greeted with shed-talk. This morning I was walked around the garden and the vision was explained. This afternoon the merits of various kinds of materials and options for paving have been presented.

He is also in communication with two of his brothers on the subject of sheds and they are equally enthusiastic and will be helping. On the plus side, this will minimise the amount of time I have to spend talking about sheds. On the down side, I will now have three shed-obsessed men in my garden expecting tea every half an hour and constant snacks and large meals. The Pluckrose brothers (there were 5 of them - now 4) have extremely hearty appetites and the mentality of brothers which means that, even though they are all in their 50s now, they will count their roast potatoes and remonstrate indignantly with me if I have been inequitable just as they did when they were boys.

(OK, I am actually very happy to see the husband with the glint of construction enthusiasm and anticipation of a fraternal bonding project in his eyes. However, I am giving this a week and then I am setting a time limit of half an hour of shed-talk a day and enforcing it with the threat of talking about postmodernism.)