Why ‘The Shed’ in Cyril’s Soap Shed

A little introduction before I start on the actual blogging stuff. And why ‘The Shed’.

As usual, a little bit late to the party with all things techie… but apparently having a blog is the thing to do. I am actually quite excited about it, and have often been told I should write some of my ramblings down. I will let you all decide if those people telling me were right! As well as talking about soap, soap making and all things soapy, I will be giving insights into life here on a smallholding. Lots of goat, chicken and horse chat along with veggie growing, life in the New Forest and probably some history and folklore bits and bobs thrown in too. For those that don’t know, history, British folklore and anything a bit ‘weird’ and unexplained are some of my main passions.

Many people follow us because of our story and lifestyle, and not just goat's milk soap, so hopefully these blog posts will have something for everyone.

Why "The Shed"

So, Why The Shed? I live in a log cabin, which is built on the site of my Grandad’s (Cyril) old shed. Grandad’s shed was HUGE! Bigger than our 3 bed cabin. As a child it was always very mystical and exciting. It seemed miles away from the house and was always a bit scary. Very ramshackle, dark and full of contraptions I still have no idea what for. Grandad had a massive work bench, in which he was always working on some project or other. I never saw the finished things. I don’t think he finished anything. When in the shed, Grandad would always listen to an old radio. It was always very crackly, but the strangest thing it was always a Russian radio station. As far as I know he couldn’t speak Russian and would never say why he was listening. Occasionally a strange noise would come from the shed. Like a twanging, similar to a very loud guitar string being twanged. Sometimes, now when it is very quiet here I hear the same noise.

I still have them and make wine in them!
The Shed - why we're called cyrils soap shed

In the corner of the shed were big barrels full of apples from our trees. One end of the workbench had demijohns all lined up, full of scrumpy. I still remember the taste. It was quite tart and very rough. It seemed to be a hit though, as so often I would watch a few of the village old boys head across the common and into the back gate of the field and off into the shed. There would often be 6 or 7 of them and Grandad with a scrumpy in hand, talking what I thought back then as rubbish and putting the world to rights. They would be in there for hours and then I would see them stagger back out and across the common again. I am not too sure on their discussions, but I bet they talked a lot more sense than most today. I guess their meetings were the original blogs. And so in honour of the shed and all the words of wisdom which I am sure came from it…

Welcome to The Shed. The blog spot of Cyril’s Soap Shed.

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