Queen of the Clouts

It was a rather grand plan to build a veranda and a bathroom onto the northern end of my shack. Perhaps I could have achieved it. I have no idea, because the morning after I arrived the generator shat itself. It wouldn't start the next day either, or the next. It's no fun, starting the day to be beaten by a mere generator. So, in the absence of power tools, I decided to play with nails and a hammer.

Then I started on the walls ...

I suspect that the township of Kundip was constructed entirely of old kerosene tins and beer because its detritus is scattered everywhere. I started gathering bits of tin on my morning walks and nailed them into the walls in the evenings. The resident pygmy possum left in disgust. The resident snake ignored me. My left thumb was burst, is still quite flattened.
Despite the pain and shambolic nature, I'm a bit proud of this work. The feel of a nail going true through galvanised steel, the steady aesthetic of working square sides against round ... you could rip this wall away and put it in an art gallery in the city but it would never hold the power or context of walking into my shack and seeing a whole wall of Kundip kerosene tin lives played out with rusty galvanised iron and clouts.