Shed Syndrome. And how to avoid it.

This is a shed.

I have been putting off clearing out the shed for a long while. It is full to bursting with half emptied pots of paint, lots of bicycles and a turbo trainer that I haven’t used since 2020, when I broke my arm. I haven’t used it because I hate turbo trainers more than I hate pickled beetroot and heavy metal, which is a lot.

Unfortunately, we have a fridge freezer in our shed which I need to access from time to time, and so it is impossible to ignore the mess entirely. Which isn’t to say that I don’t try to. My forays into the shed to retrieve, for example, a Tupperware of stock from the freezer are surgical and highly focussed; there is no wasted time. I try not to consider the chaos that surrounds me.

If I do, I am overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness. How can I tackle the disorder of the shed, when I have so many other commitments that are pressing down on me, like writing a Substack about how little time I have to clear out the shed?

Shed Syndrome is replicated as a phenomenon across multiple areas of my life; fear of visiting the dentist may be a cliché, but in my life it is very real. Likewise, there is a hurdle to be overcome when starting to write a book (books are really long, it turns out) or researching a bike race for a stint of commentary. I mean, where do you begin with 176 riders, 42 start and finish towns, three mountain ranges, 120 years of history, centuries of architecture, agriculture, war, geology and art all spread out over 3,300 kilometres of open road which passes through an entire country? This a very, very big and disorderly shed. And so is this:

Imagine you are listening to the radio in the morning, maybe this very morning, and the announcer introduces a new item.

“The Seventh Carbon Budget has been published by the Climate Change Committee, aimed at providing advice to the Government on how to achieve Net Zero in 25 years time, by 2050.”

What is your reaction? Do you turn the volume up so as not to miss a detail in the discussion to follow, or do you slam the shed door behind you on the way out and turn the radio off?

A confession: I am often a door-slammer. The overwhelming scale of the crisis, the relative smallness of the UK’s contribution, and the infinitesimal part that I play in it all leave my head spinning and my heart sinking. When you factor in the political headwinds which are roaring over the Atlantic to our shores, then it’s hard to avoid a sense of despair that leads, as night follows day, to a paralysis of the will.

Until you read some of the detail, that is. Or, to put it another way, until you actually open the shed door, stand still and take stock: until you ask yourself, ‘where can I begin?’

This, metaphorically, is what I have just done. And it is not terrible news. In fact, it’s rather good in a way: almost, at times, exciting.

Firstly, I was surprised to read that the history of the Carbon Budgets to date is a clear and largely unheralded success story. This is the 7th Budget, and deals with what must be done to meet our targets for the years 2038-2042. That means we have 13 years to put into the place the requisite policy. Time enough, if we get it right, which we have recent record of doing.

The Carbon Budgets started in 2008. The first 3 targets, so from 2008 to 2022 were achieved with something to spare, mostly through decommissioning coal fired power stations. Currently we are on a trajectory to (just about) meet the Carbon Budget 4. In a world which consistently seems to miss every environmental standard or aspiration, this struck me as unusually positive news.

There are large structural levers which are indeed beyond most of our ken and control which will have a strong bearing on whether or not the next Budgets are achieved. I’m not in charge of whether or not we still burn gas to generate electricity, and I rather think you aren’t either. You are allowed to feel a bit powerless on that one.

But, with the steady and very significant reduction of carbon emission from the grid, an increasingly big chunk of the activities which will determine our success or failure come from things which we can choose; which we do (to a greater or lesser extent) have agency over.

Heat pumps. The UK lags well behind other comparable countries in installing them. But they need to go in. Once our housing stock has been converted to run them, maintenance costs will tumble, bills will fall and emissions drop to zero. The big problems are often front-loaded - but I understand that grants are still available of up to £7,500 for heat pump installation. That is a huge percentage of the up front cost and puts it within reach of many millions of households. Not everyone, admittedly. But more than you might think.

A little less meat. Imagine if we all just had a couple of days a week without sausages. Straight away the stress on the environment from livestock emissions tumbles by a hefty percentage. There are other creative solutions too, like introducing plant-based “meats” into the mix of processed meat products. I bet you wouldn’t even notice your burger was partially “woke”. It might even taste (whisper it quietly) better. The percentage gains here, scaled up, are potentially huge.

Cars. This is a big one, which I feel very strongly about. I gave up on car ownership when my crappy Renault conked out on the Autobahn almost a decade ago. Not owning a car is made easier because I live in London, for sure. But the very fact of having a car parked outside means that people tend to use it unthinkingly; often completely unnecessarily. In my opinion far too little is being done to end our dependence on cars. They kill or injure over 150,000 people a year in the UK, above all the harm they do to our environment. But that is my own (massive) sidebar.

The Climate Change Committee have identified the conversion to EVs as an essential game-changer in meeting Budgets 4, 5 and 6. Currently 3% of vehicles are electric. By 2040 this must be 80%. They expect prices of EVs to start to fall further between 2026 and 2028 to reach the same price as petrol and diesel cars, driving this change. It feels inevitable that, if you need a car, you will eventually be driving an EV. The only question is when you take the plunge. But don’t entirely rule out trying to live without owning a car. It’s a revelation if you can make it work.

Then there’s flying. I’m keeping my mouth shut here, since I fly a preposterous amount for work. Almost never for holidays. But for work, short haul to Europe, I fly a lot. This is a very sticky problem to solve. But it seems clear that one way or another the industry must start to contribute more than it does to pay for the damage it creates. This might mean higher fares, which in turn creates an inequality of opportunity. That’s a problem, but one which might be offset by things like a Frequent Flyer Tax, or a premium paid by people like me.

Most of this is stuff we can affect. And most of this tech change, once we’ve embraced it, will make our lives better. This is good news, I think. I’m not saying that we should be high-fiving one another and posting self-congratulatory hashtags.

But I am saying that it is reason enough not to feel overwhelmed and helpless.

By the way, yesterday, I got all the bikes out of the shed, sorted the cans of paint, re-stacked the garden tools and swept the floor. I moved the turbo trainer to the very back of the shed and out of the way, then I put the bikes back neatly.

At least now I don’t have to avert my eyes from the carnage. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start, and I feel all the better for it.