By the time coronavirus restrictions arrived, there was a gaping hole in my back deck.
Like the muster of socks I'd been meaning to darn and the kitchen rangehood I'd planned to fix, the deck renovation was a half-cooked project waiting to find its momentum.
Imposed isolation occasioned more home time, but a loss of paid work meant I could no longer afford to replace the timber I'd ripped up. So I tinkered — which is to say I improvised, outwitting my material circumstance...
