A man, his garden shed, and a very unusual pastime 稀奇古怪的英国人

Likethousands of British men, I have a shed in my garden.

It’swhere I keep my tools, some books, and where I retreat from time to time if Ineed some solitude. I’m very proud of it, because I built it myself. A manneeds a shed, in other words.

Butthere are sheds and there are sheds.

TakeKevin Kicks from Oxfordshire, in central England.  On Sunday he went to his shed, like  tens of thousands of other British menenjoying a day off in the last days of summer.

Thedifference is he then drove it at 88 miles an hour along a disused airfieldrunway.

Kevin,whose shed is an impressive wooden-planked affair with double-glazed windowsand a proper A-framed roof, mounted it on a van chassis and joined a few dozen otherpeople with frankly weird tastes.

WhilstKevin was muscling his way down the runway – he didn’t quite break the record,as far as I can tell – another fellow-eccentric mounted a jet-propelledshopping trolley and blasted his way to a world record of 61.18 miles an hour,literally astride a jet turbine engine and strapped to a shopping cart. MattMcKeown, you’re a very brave man. Daft as a brush, of course.

Ifthere’s one quality Britons prize above anything else, it’s eccentricity.

Ishould know, I come from a long line of eccentrics.

Mymaternal grandfather, for example, was a large, bombastic former chief ofpolice and a bona fide war hero from World War I, who’d been a boxer in hisyouth. Not what you would call a subtle man.

Norwas he a man given to expressing emotion, he used to dot his letters withlittle sketches of dogs and cats that wouldn’t have disgraced a cartoon book.

Mylate uncle John was the real deal as far as eccentricity was concerned. Ourfamily folk lore is littered with stories of his oddball antics. I mean, do youknown anyone who would eat Brussels sprouts RAW, or suck the last dregs out ofused tea bags?

Hiseccentricity attained new heights when he reached his old age. Unable to driveany more, he acquired a custom-built tricycle, and he’d wear a woollen bobblehat surmounted by a giant pair of headphones with a radio he’d built in, and afoot-long antenna sticking out.

Then,with his two dogs attached to the handlebars on a long lead, he would wobbleoff around the country lanes of Buckinghamshire every evening.

Motorists,needless to say, gave him a wide berth.

Itmust be genetic. His father was a true gentleman with exquisite Edwardian manners,who never learnt to drive. Instead he built his thriving real estate businessby using the local rural bus service – and after each journey, would solemnlytip the rather bemused driver.

SoI imagine reading about people breaking world speed records for sheds, shoppingtrolleys, sleds, mono-motorcycles and rocket-powered motor bikes seems normalto us Brits.

Butwhat on earth does the rest of the world make of it all?

Ishudder to think.

ChrisPeterson is Managing Editor, Europe for China Daily. Contact him on chris@mail.chinadailyuk.com