Don Quicksotte’s shed

…herself several errant outlying layers of her raiment, Minerva strides in her Birkenstocks across the muddy lawn towards the shed cowering in the far corner of the garden and, jerking open the door thereof, reveals the elderly gentleman skulking in the gloom at the low table within. The simpleton eyes behind their half-moon spectacles swivel upwards from their toil, and are fleetingly animated by the weakest of simpers. He sports…

…One morning that foolish, fond old man betakes himself in accordance with his postprandial custom unto his shed in order to beaver away at his toy windmills. Herein for an hour or so, he sits and trundles his lathe and planes his sails and glues his balsa and recalculates his carbon offset greenwash, and indulges the fourscore and ten other petty crafts and skills serving to alleviate his lacklustre life’s…