Brief: Take a common expression about home (such as 'There's no place like home' or 'Home is where the heart is') and use it to inspire a piece of prose up to 500 words.
An Englishman’s Shed Is His Castle
‘When did you last use this?’ said Cynthia, picking up the rotary degrombuliser and blowing a cloud of dust off it.
Malcolm gulped. He realised that the contraption, whose purpose had long been forgotten, was in danger. He also feared that the peril might not remain restricted to this one item, and knew that he must, under any cost, steer the conversation carefully away from the dreaded words ‘clear out’.
‘We need it in case the frottering casket breaks down again,’ he said, believing that the clever usage of we rather than I would help sway things his way.
But what was she doing in his shed anyway? She never comes into the shed. There is nothing of interest to her here whatsoever. This was nothing short of intrusion.
‘Honestly, Malcolm. Sometimes I think you just make up excuses to justify keeping all this junk. Surely it’s time for a clear out.’
Damn! The feared escalation of hostility had occurred, and Malcolm bemoaned the flimsy shed’s pitiful defences. Perhaps he should install an array of embrasures through which archers could fire upon an advancing foe. Or a battlement upon the roof, maybe even a turret? With a flag!
No, all he had were words, and some of them weren’t even real ones.
‘It just needs a bit of a tidy up,’ he said. ‘Tell you what, you go back inside, have a nice bath and I’ll give the place a thorough reorganisation.'
But the siege was not to be abated by these ill chosen words. Cynthia’s eyes brightened as she said, ‘You’re right! We do need a thorough reorganisation. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could replace this tatty old shed with a nice summerhouse?’
Moat! Drawbridge! Boiling oil! thought Malcolm.