The world according to Charlie Snape

Charlie loved his shed where; conformity and his personal regime lay. Hammers on the walls in rows. Nails, racks and packs of this and that stacked; where cob-webs and spiders crawled over his ordered world.

The mornings news,always bloody shocking, with the financial world in a flurry of doubt and despair. It beggared beleif, he muttered, as he chewed on his thick buttered bread and marmite, how the world was going down the pan. Life, he said, as he drew out his dripping tea-bag and then dropped it into their sink, wouldn't have been so bad if everything hadn't been Nationalised.

Nothing was as it used to be so what was poor Charlie supposed to do but to withdraw with his mug into his shed and ponder over this and that.
Before exiting from the kitchen, with yesterdays news in the bin, he turned to Mrs Snape and said through his marmalade mouth, that he didn't know why she would want a holiday. Nor he added, before she had chance to put the frying pan down, why she would need more clothes as didn't she have more than enough to see herself out.

She had already perused solo holiday brochures and needed to book before she got cold feet about travelling again alone.
"Look Pet, he always called her that, I'd love to come with you but you know full well I hate the thought of flying; so that's that!
Mrs Snape knew there was no point in arguing with her Charlie. She walked alone on distant beaches or sat with her toes licking the Aegean sea whilst the couple she'd recently met argued close by her. She had heard, from this woman in question, how she had sawn her soon to be husbands shoes in half with a bread knive the night previously; before hacking all his shirts and trousers until her fingers hurt.
Mrs Snape meanwhile, forced to listen to these strangers woe's, wished in part for Charlies shed but not enough to go home just yet.