With lockdown sparking a spring cleaning trend, Gayle transforms
a neglected, cobweb-infested garden hideaway into a haven of
tranquillity – and finds some hidden heirlooms
I blame the spiders. They moved in like squatters overnight, spun a load of cobwebs, and then terrorised me every time I attempted a visit.
It got to the point where I was too afraid to even knock on the door.
The result was that I gave the summerhouse – once a peaceful, meditative retreat at the bottom of the garden – a wide berth for many years.
The thought of having all those hairy black legs and beady eyes peering out at me, or worse, having the sinister creatures scuttle over me, sent shudders down my spine.
As an animal lover, I’m ashamed to admit this. Yes, I should love spiders, but sorry – the mere thought of them cripples me with fear.
Anyway, the point is that it was the eight-legged critters that stopped me from not only using but cleaning the summerhouse.
However, with lockdown encouraging everyone to embrace everything we’ve got on our doorsteps and indeed, in our gardens, I decided it was time to get a grip.
Sporting thick gloves and a bright pink jacket in the hope that the beasts would see me coming and flee, I also sang loudly as I approached to give them ample warning to evict themselves.
My worst fears were confirmed as I opened the door. The place was a right old mess – thick with cobwebs, dust, weed-strewn pots, moss and random detritus.
The first job, sweeping the cobwebs from the roof, walls and windows, was the worst.
This took great courage and elicited a fair few blood-curdling squeals as arachnids dropped down from their hiding holes and scuttled off to who knows where.
A tired-looking, rickety old potting bench was in dire need of a makeover, so I bravely dragged it outside, sanded it down and gave it a fresh lick of blue paint.
Dozens of broken pots, trays and polystyrene trays were bin fodder, but I managed to salvage a stunning ceramic pot, hidden behind a stack of old tools.
Once I’d given this a good old scrub, I filled it with ferns and dogwood cuttings and put it out on the verandah.
The ultimate goal will be to grace this with a lovely plant – perhaps a miniature azalea – when I get the chance to buy one from a garden centre.
The verandah, meantime, was coated in moss, but this was easily scraped away with a garden hoe.
Another big job was cleaning the extremely filthy windows. This involved scooshing loads of Mr Sheen and furiously polishing away years of dust and debris. A great workout for the bingo wings!
A huge cotoneaster shrub growing right outside the summerhouse was blocking any views, so that had to be lopped back.
Once I’d done all this, I swept the floor, and began thinking about how I could pimp up my woman cave.
I wanted it to be a place I could sit and relax of a morning, afternoon or indeed evening, so it had to be comfortable and aesthetically pleasing.
I’m no interior designer but I did my best to revive an old wicker seat and stool, while wiping down plastic garden chairs and festooning them with cheery cushions.
Meanwhile, the wicker stool became a side table adored with candles and a sunflower-shaped tealight holder I found at the back of a shed.
The shed also yielded the discovery of a pair of old wooden carpet beaters which hailed from my grandparents’ home in Aberdeen.
They inherited them when they moved into the house in the late 1940s, but they’ve been sat in various garages and sheds ever since.
It was a fantastic feeling to get them out and give them an airing – and then to hang them from the back wall of the summerhouse.
The freshly painted potting bench, now taking pride of place in one corner, seemed the ideal space for books, a metal lantern, an old pair of binoculars and an old empty bottle of Jura I’d transformed into a rustic candle holder.
The final touch was to gather up a posy of colourful flowers I’d picked from the garden and put them into a glass jar.
Of course, there had to be somewhere for the dog to chill, so I dug out a boho-style rug I’d had in my bedroom as a teenager. The dog didn’t hesitate to claim it for his own.
I spent the afternoon whiling away the hours drinking coffee, eating cake, spying on wildlife and reading in my revamped outdoors pad… and I couldn’t stop smiling.
I returned in the evening with a wee dram to listen to the haunting hoot of an owl and to watch bats swooping to catch insects.
What I’d allowed to become a neglected, unloved space has once again become a true haven of tranquillity.
I really hope the spiders don’t dare show face any time soon, but I have a feeling that they just might…
