Cobertizo de jardín.

Lockdown day 50.
I still haven't taken advantage of the freedom to go out for local exercise at inconvenient hours of the day.
With the house, I inherited, as well as an assortment of garden shrubs, a rather ramshackle old wooden shed. This was for me a major selling point, as anyone from Yorkshire knows, a shed is a thing of joy. I spent many happy hours in my Dad's shed as a child, imagining it as a magic portal, a tardis, a science lab, a secret hideaway, and the cans of paint, tools and heady smell of oil, creosote and sawn wood just added to the experience. I spent a good part of Spanish Mother's Day lovingly brushing it with wood preservative, and another chunk of time helping to give Minnie2 a haircut, with mixed results; she has never had a trim in her 9 months of life, and was beginning to resemble Dougall from Magic Roundabout (that gives away my great age). Her fur was about 8" long and touching the ground, and now that the weather's warming up it was starting to bother her. Apart from that, some washing, feeding the tortoises and watering the garden I've not done much today.