Room to manoeuvre (hide)

I’m finally getting it all organised, ship-shape, comfortable so to speak. Yep, just six months and a whole winter since we moved into our new home, I’ve got my tackle room just the way I like it.

Now some may scoff but this ‘man space’ is very important to me and, I’d like to bet, almost every other male on the planet. I imagine ladies feel the same way about how the throw cushions are stacked on the bed! They have to be right or they may as well not be there at all.

Is that sexist?

It probably is but then again how many women do you know who own their own tackle room, shed or workshop?

No, you’re not allowed to count all of the female craft folk round these parts; nor the artists; nor the… Hmm, I seem to be backing myself into a corner here.

You know what I need? A bolt-hole, hiding place or panic room to retreat to: just so long as my fly tying gear, a few outdoor magazines and some of Norm’s beef jerky is stashed there.

Back in Blighty a chap’s lair of choice is his shed. Suitably distant from the main home (at the bottom of the garden, no matter how short or long said garden is), the shed is usually a diminutive affair, often only a little larger than the average Haliburtonian’s ice fishing hut. However, within it feels like Dr Who’s Tardis. Or to be more precise it has as much stuff in as the Tardis; all that is lacking is the rest of the space!

Lawn chairs, bicycles, tools, pieces of timber that have been saved just in case they come in handy. The BBQ (for English BBQ read: a small, blackened, grease and mouse infested grill, filled with spent charcoal and spiders), a moth eaten tent, partially inflated football and a workbench piled high with half finished projects. And yet, amidst all of this ‘Very Important’ junk, there space enough to fit a comfy chair, armrests stacked with magazines, plus a box of matches and pipe set neatly in its stand. Oh, and a small crate of India Pale Ale.

An Englishman’s shed is his castle. It simply lacks the turrets, moat, drawbridge, keep, towers, knights, courtiers… It does have a bolt on the inside of the door though, rendering it sanctuary when all about is a battle ground. Lads, you know what I’m talking about!

In Canada though… Well, a mere shed is not enough is it. As mentioned, you guys go fishing in sheds, so the bolt-hole you retreat to when the ice is out has to be somewhat more substantial.

I overheard a conversation in a realtor’s office a while back between a female realtor and lady client: it went something like:

Client: “It’s really lovely but does it have a good sized workshop?”

Realtor: “I’m afraid not. There’s a wonderful landscaped garden, an 80 square foot deck and it’s set on the shores of Heaven Lake.”

Client: “Hmm, sorry but if there’s no workshop my husband won’t look at it…”

Realtor: “But there’s…”

Client: “And if he’s under my feet all day I would probably kill him within six months! What else have you got?”

Workshops, that’s what you call them. Industrial size buildings that are home to all manner of boys toys – skidoo, circular saw, beer cooler, trail bike, chain saw, ice fishing tackle (although those tiny little rods don’t take up a lot of room!), gun locker, kayak and the list goes on.

Bigger space, bigger toys but I guarantee you there’s a corner amidst all of this ‘treasure’ with a comfy chair, stack of magazines and a half finished crate of Molson in it.

Every workshop is different in size, shape and content. The one thing that almost all have in common though is that they are very rarely used as shops to work in. Hence I call mine the tackle room.

There can be no misunderstanding that I’ll be doing any work in there!