Review: The Re-emergent Childhood Dream of Living in a Luxury Shed

big cabin

pictured: a child’s ideal of luxury shed life


What’s on test: The latent desire, relegated to the subconscious since adolescence, to make a home of, and subsist permanently in, a deluxe outdoor MDF cabin.

What we found:

Pros:  We found that the rediscovery of the youthful desire to live in a shed had many unexpected positives, beyond adhering to the superficial contemporary notion of ‘not giving up on your dreams’ and ‘being true to yourself’.

Our testers felt that finding ‘extremely-budget’ or even ‘perilous’ permanent accommodation attractive spoke well of the individual, suggesting that they valued a sense of adventure and the pioneer spirit over superficial displays of wealth and sense. We found that the possession of youthful wonder in simple living was a gift without value, a sum roughly relative to what an individual looking to sleep in a shed could reasonably afford.

It was also felt that even a temporary full-habitation of a garden shed or cabin had some positives, uppermost being that the experience would prepare the individual for dramatic local estrangements from spouses, covert relationships with other people’s local spouses, and other unfortunate relationship scenarios. The wooden-box-in-the-wind is also one of the projected retirement care-home scenarios of the next 50 years, so a reasonable expectation of what this will consist of could also be considered a positive.

Cons:  While the mobility and easy transport of the shed-home was initially viewed as a positive, our testers decided that the ease with which the individual shed-home owner could find themselves relieved of their shed-home, either by thieves or by the elements, was ultimately not something in the lifestyle’s favour. We also found that this was chiefly responsible for sheds not ‘holding their value’, making them a reasonably unsound investment.

Our testers also felt that, while it was nice to ‘reconnect’ with an emotion from one’s early formative years, there was a degree of sadness on the realisation that a sense of wonder in, say, books or science would have been of significantly more value than an interest in shed life. There was also the notion that this newly rediscovered interest could pose some problems, most notably in the potential resurfacing of other latent childhood intentions, like sleeping under the bathmat and eating lots of sugar for lunch. One of our testers even suggested that the re-emergence of this desire was an early sign of one’s childhood self attempting to assert authority over one’s contemporary self, a interesting notion that was immediately dismissed and kept us very much awake at night.

Verdict: On balance, we found that the dream of properly living in a shed must be practically tested by each individual taken with the notion in order to ascertain whether it could ever represent a feasible way of life for that individual. We felt that the contemporary fixation with the lingering ‘dream’ as a positive make this almost brutal validation a necessity, as positive notions left unverified can often undermine the positive realities we may really experience. Fortunately, many garden centre and home improvement chains already have fully habitable display sheds, which our testers found, with a degree of stealth, were ideally suited to such testing.


Review: The Second Biscuit from an Unsuccessful Biscuit Line

Pictured: Shackleton’s technically unsuccessful biscuit, not technically relevant to this review

What’s being tested?

The consumption of a second biscuit from a packet of ultimately unsuccessful snack biscuits.

What we found


We found that the majority of our conclusions regarding the fate of a line of biscuits or snacks are ultimately formed on the successful consumption of the initial biscuit, with any judgements made on additional eatings being largely in support of our initial outcomes. As such, eating a second biscuit from what we would believe to be a doomed biscuit line is largely done for reasons different from the eating of the first.

For example, despite the feeling that the biscuit line being experienced had failed, we felt that it was still worth reviewing said line for as long as was possible, so as to learn from the mistakes made by its architects and bakers. Understanding the missteps of an unsuccessful endeavour better prepares us for the thinking behind future biscuit lines.

Our testers also felt that an initial tasting may not be enough to yield any specific nuance in the biscuit bake, and as such further eats were essential.  With a biscuit line’s ultimate success, again, very much determined by the tasters response to the initial biscuit, the resolution to press on with additional biscuits could insinuate ‘character’ on the part of said taster.

Finally, we felt that, in times as austere as these, dispensing with a packet of biscuits after eating only one biscuit from said packet was an option open to no one. This necessity, coupled with what could be seen as an obligation to pay final respects to a noble-if-ultimately-unsuccessful endeavour, meant that the consumption of the second biscuit was inevitable.


We found that there may be circumstances where an individual may be forced to eat a packet of biscuits from an unsuccessful biscuit line because of adverse personal circumstances, like being trapped in a collapsed extension or having been unable to rouse sufficient enthusiasm to affect grocery shopping, for example. In such situations, while the second biscuit could very well double as a positive ‘moment of clarity’ of sorts,  the immediate physical reality of the taster’s situation remains profoundly negative.

Our testers also felt that, in a small number of situations, a second biscuit could be indicative of an individual’s failure to appreciate the certain demise of the biscuit bake being enjoyed. The implicit forming of an attachment to said doomed bake through the continuation of its consumption was not only tragic and regrettable in and of itself, but also suggested a tendency to form similarly tragically fated associations in the future, like choosing the wrong energy supplier or family-in-law.


On balance, we found that, with informed eating, the continuation of the consumption of what would almost certainly come to be an unsuccessful biscuit line was, despite its hazards, an ultimately important act. As is so often the case, many of the problems we experience in the here and now could so easily have been avoided with a proper understanding of the mistakes of the past. The field of biscuitary is no exception. The admission that one has ‘chosen the wrong biscuits’ is a difficult one to make, but we found that the benefits of doing so are not insignificant.