How Not to Mend the Shed Part II

Just Fucking Sort It September continues. The Save Our Shed campaign is well and truly underway. This is what happened:

As you may recall the shed is now not covered in most of the crops of middle France.
So I can now access the exterior. I thought that a peep at the roof from the outside might be helpful. After having found the ladder, which the Beloved had handily stored under some brambles, I propped it against the end of the shed. With Health and Safety in mind I measured the angle at which I had propped the ladder (20 degrees) with my school protractor. Satisfied that this fell into the recommended parameters of Health and Safety as recommended by those wise Health and Safety bods (well, only just out of the parameters anyway) I began my ascent.

I had expected to find a few loose screws (of the exterior-head variety) (already familiar with the interior-head variety), perhaps some slightly worn edges, and possibly a magpie preening its feathers. Wrong. I found a landscape akin to a deforested, storm-tossed and post apocalyptic middle France after having had all its vines removed. There were valleys filled with water, valleys filled with brown unknowable smelly stuff, a multitude of screws so loose that I’m surprised that the preening magpies hadn’t picked them up and used them as combs and toothpicks for the entire magpie population of middle Wales. There were holes of the smaller variety which could be plugged with chewing gum (am chewing that now), there were holes of the middle-sized variety, large enough for a preening magpie to use as a handy entrance. AND THERE WAS A HOLE.

This is what it looked like:

The obvious question was obviously what I was asking myself – ‘How the fuck did I miss that?’

I have a theory:
The HOLE had several attributes –
It was previously obscured by most of the foliage of middle France
It is over where the Beloved keeps his bike
The Beloved’s bike is always wet
I had assumed that the Beloved’s bike was always wet because –
He rides it in the rain
He sweats a lot
Ergo, the wetness of the bike and surrounding area was due to Beloved-related activity.

Wrong. Or somewhat wrong.

I am, however, undaunted. I examined the problem from every angle (including 20 degrees). And came up with a cunning plan:
The shed needs a new roof to protect my precious, slightly mouldy, flat-packed furniture that I’m going to sell on ebay to obviate my singe-parent impecuniousness.
A roof is made of big flat things.
I have big flat things inside the shed (my precious, slightly mouldy, flat-packed furniture that I’m going to sell on ebay to obviate my singe-parent impecuniousness).

The obvious solution comes to mind. Fucking Sorted.