The Cardboard Shed: Making something from what you have

When we moved house, there was an outbuilding at the bottom of the garden. It was nothing special, just a rough space with potential, but the moment I saw it, I knew it was going to turn it into something special.

For years I’d dreamed of running a creative centre that celebrates children, something big and impressive. I’d spent hours brainstorming and sketching ideas, but the vision never got much further than the page. I thought I needed a perfect building, funding, and a flawless grand plan. Grief has a way of rearranging you. It strips away what doesn’t matter. My dad’s death in 2020 was painful and freeing at the same time. Combined with Covid, closing my previous business and taking my children out of school, life showed me how strong I actually was. I’d been through so much and was still standing, still showing up. It was then that I realised I already had everything I needed. The space was right there and I was ready to take my idea and turn it into a reality.

Old me would have waited until everything was perfect.

New me decided to start anyway.

To use what I had.

To stop caring quite so much about what other people thought.

That’s how The Cardboard Shed began.

It’s called that because it really is just cardboard. No fancy materials. No overcomplication. Just a place for families to come, create, and connect. At first, I was nervous. I hoped people would get it, that they’d see the beauty in something so simple. They did.

Now the Shed is full of hope and noise and ideas. Children build and invent. Parents exhale. One mother told me, “This is the only place I can relax and enjoy my children. I don’t feel judged here.”

That’s what it’s really about. Hope. Connection.

Proof that children are awesome when they’re trusted.

It’s not perfect, and it doesn’t need to be. Every time I open the doors, I’m reminded that doing something imperfectly is far better than never beginning. The Cardboard Shed keeps teaching me to hang back, to listen, to make space for children to lead.

It also showed me something else. When parents feel happier and more confident in themselves, they stop trying to control everything. They can really see their children for who they are, not who they’re meant to be. That realisation led me to train as a coach.

Coaching and The Cardboard Shed might look like different worlds, but they come from the same place: a belief that growth happens when you stop waiting for perfect and start trusting what’s already here.

You don’t need a plan, permission, or a flawless version of yourself.

You just need one step.

One idea you care about enough to follow.

You already have everything you need.

Maybe this is your reminder to use it.

Visit www.cardboardshed.co.uk to see where that one small step led.