erithacus' saga: exclusive, luxury accommodation

I went through a battered door at the side of the house and wandered down the path, trying to see the shed in which I was to sleep. Eventually, I stumbled across what I thought was a wooden structure, hidden by the undergrowth. I slipped on the mud outside, swore and creaked the door open. I walked in, or tried to. Something metal hit my nose. The shed was full of junk so I decided to make some space by chucking things out; a children’s bicycle from the 1950s, a bellows with a hole in it, an old deckchair and several other objects I couldn’t identify.

There seemed to be little difference between the outside and inside temperatures. The only difference was the rain. If I slept outside I was sure to get wet in the rain. If I slept inside, and was somniferously agile enough, I would be able to dodge the drops of water coming in through the roof. There might be something among the junk in the shed to patch up some of the holes. After a great deal of fumbling and rummaging around, I managed to find an old kerosene lamp, having first cut my finger on a rusty scythe.