“Every step forward comes with a surprise setback. But that’s the charm with my Little Shop of Horrors — where the only guarantee is more chaos.

Framing the Future whilst Fixing the Past

This is it. The walls are up. The floors are done. For the first time, this place doesn’t look like a horror show. It looks like a shop. My shop. The kind of place I’ve dreamed about for years. I stood in the middle of it today and just… smiled. The walls are perfect, and the floor needs some filling and levelling. No big deal. Just more added to my list that’ll be part of the story. This is a win. A huge, glorious win.

And for about three glorious minutes, I felt nothing but that. Pure, unadulterated triumph. Smiling from ear to ear at something so tangible.

Then my brain switched on, and the anxiety kicked in.

It’s that feeling, isn’t it? The one where a huge step forward just reveals a new, terrifying abyss in front of you. Now I have to deal with the electrics. My stomach is in knots thinking about it. I now have to find a new tradesperson, and that’s a whole new level of trust and hope. What if they’re not as awesome as my last guy? What if they have to tear into my perfect new walls? The thought alone is enough to make me want to curl up in a ball.

Then there’s the money. Every single small victory has a price tag attached, and I’m genuinely nervous about how much this is going to cost. The doubt creeps in: is this all worth it? Am I pouring my life savings into a black hole? It’s easy to get lost in the panic.

And the reason for all this dread? The electrics.

My tradesman told me the RCD in the room appears to be a ‘total fake’ (no, my tradesman was not Donald Trump!). It has wires running to it, it looks completely official, but when you flick the switch… nothing. The plugs in the room just keep humming along. I’m half-convinced it’s secretly cutting power to some innocent person’s kettle down the road. Sorry innocent person!

And it gets worse. My entire shop was being powered by an extension cord that was plugged into the outdoor toilet. A future-proofed gaming den, powered by a bathroom plug. Not just any bathroom, but the outside one. And the wall switch? Another fake. It did nothing. My poor tradesman got a jolt from a wire that refused to die, and the only way to kill it was to shut off the power to the entire toilet at the main breaker. So, yeah, until it’s fixed, anyone needing to use that loo is doing so in total darkness… And obviously, there will be no power in the shop.

This is messy. It’s stressful. It’s ridiculous. But standing in the middle of this beautiful, half-broken mess, I can still see it. I can see the future. I see a racing sim rig ready for someone to tear up the track. I see rows of modern PCs playing the latest titles, and another section dedicated to retro classics, where a dad can show his son the games he grew up with – just like I was so fortunate to experience with my own dad. I can hear the laughter of friends competing, the cheers from a victory, and the smack talk that will forge new memories.

I find my inner voice and it’s reminding me that this isn’t just about building a shop; it’s about creating a place where people can genuinely connect, whether they’re friends, siblings, or even parents and their kids. This whole process, with its fake switches and electric shocks, is just the raw beginning of a place that will be filled with raw human moments. It’s a dream, and it’s worth every bit of chaos.

What Next?

The next mission is a big one: finding an electrician to tame this nightmare. But that’s just the start of the next phase.

Once the electrical chaos is sorted, it’s all about making the place look and feel like an actual shop. That means smoothing out the floor with floor filler and getting the skirting boards in place to create a clean finish. Then it’s finally time to get rid of the single, lonely ceiling fixture and replace it with proper spotlights—so this place can go from a dungeon to somewhere you’d actually want to hang out.It’s a daunting list, no doubt. But I’m choosing to see it differently. With every bag of floor filler, I’m smoothing out the path for the gamers who will walk through my doors. The skirting boards and paint aren’t just details; they’re the backdrop for laughter and competition. And those spotlights will be a beacon for friends and families looking for a place to create memories.

It’s a daunting list, no doubt. But I’m choosing to see it differently. With every bag of floor filler, I’m smoothing out the path for the gamers who will walk through my doors. The skirting boards and paint aren’t just details; they’re the backdrop for laughter and competition. And those spotlights will be a beacon for friends and families looking for a place to create memories.