I finally started the pergola. Not the sketchbook version, not the stand-around-holding-a-mug version. Actual tools. Actual sun. Actual sweat that smelled like regret by 10:30am.
I’d been meaning to shade the south side for months. Too hot in summer, too exposed. Every time I walked past that wall I’d mutter something passive-aggressive to the sun and promise I’d fix it. The timber’s been there since April. The bolts since June. The will to begin? Arrived yesterday morning with an overconfident espresso and no plan for lunch.
Day One: Hope and Holes
Started digging like a man who knew where the bedrock was. I didn’t. Clay, rocks, two angry beetles. Each hole took an hour and most of my dignity. Got the first post in, stepped back, and it was already listing like a hungover shed. Measured the diagonals. Still wrong. Measured again. Somehow wrong in a new way.
Also realised I bought the wrong bolts. Wood-to-masonry. No masonry. Just earth, splinters, and the sound of me saying “this is fine” in six different tones of denial.
Day Two: Violence and Geometry
Woke up sore and determined. Dug out all the posts. Redid the layout using string, instinct, and mild rage. Decided to trust the solar angle app I downloaded last winter while drunk. Slotted the slats at a 35-degree pitch—not because I’m precise, but because that’s the angle the app landed on when my thumb slipped.
Sun came up. Shade landed exactly where I wanted it. Felt like wizardry. Then the drill jammed. Then the dog ran off with the hex key. Then I stood up under the frame and cracked my head so hard I forgot what I was building.
Day Three: Victory With Asterisks
It’s up. Not symmetrical. One end bows slightly like it’s apologising. But it casts a clean block of shade across the worst bit of wall, and inside the house, the difference is instant. No more 32°C in the kitchen at 11am. No more wilting herbs by lunchtime.
I stood under it with a beer and it felt—quiet. Like one of those rare moments where the work lines up with the result.
Off-grid isn’t silence or peace. It’s fixing problems before they shout. It’s learning to look at shadows and say, “yeah, that’s working.” It’s forgetting sunscreen and remembering angles.
Next job? Guttering along the back edge. Feed it to a secondary greywater tank. Maybe add some swing-out canvas on the sides if I’m feeling brave. Or bored.
Anyway. Pergola’s up. Shade’s real. Tape measure’s wrecked. Me? Proud. Just don’t ask me to build another one.