When I moved into my new house in May 2025, it needed quite a lot of things doing to it. I’d managed to wangle a whole month before we needed to move in properly so I could deal with the worst of it. A kind friend painted the house from top to bottom, and a nice handyman picked up some of the tougher tasks around the house. But when I moved in, that’s when I discovered a whole host of small, niggly bits which needed my attention. One of the first of these tasks was to replace the hinges on my inherited storage shed.
The shed is made of plastic and is just the right size for my small back yard. It’s incredibly helpful to have, and is now home to a stack of wooden garden chairs, some gardening tools and things like creosote and weed killer. There’s absolutely nothing in there worth stealing, but it is helpful to have doors you can open without them just falling off.

I spent a couple of weeks popping into my sunny yard and contemplating the problem. Sure, I could buy a new shed, but I’d just bought a whole house and all of the expensive things that you also need to buy when you treat yourself to a new step on the property ladder. I discerned that a new shed was too expensive and I could probably get away with just replacing the hinges.
In some paperwork that had been left for me by the previous owners were some instructions for the shed, which helpfully gave me a make and model number to search for. I was the proud owner of a “Keter Store it Out XL” plastic shed. Once I was armed with that information, finding some replacement hinges took me just a few moments of searching on Amazon, and before you could say “you want to order some replacement hinges for that”, I’d ordered some replacement hinges and they would be delivered the next day.
Sometimes, or oftentimes, it can take me a little while to actually do the task, especially once the bravado of ordering just the thing I needed wears off. And this was no different. My hinges sat on the kitchen table, quietly nagging me to just get on with it for a week or two.

After a couple of weeks of being guilt-tripped by some rather judgemental ultra strong plastic hinges, I decided to just do it. I started off by removing the doors and the broken hinges. This was simple and straightforward, and I made a mental note of what they looked like, so when I screwed the new hinges into place, they’d look the same.
Whilst the doors were off, I gave them a bit of a wipe down and I screwed the hinges into position. This was the easy bit. The doors and their new hinges needed attaching to the shed again, and this was a bit more difficult. I floundered about for a little while, trying to hold the door in position whilst trying to screw them into place before I cracked. I’d tried balancing it on my foot, and popping it on a wedge of wood, but what it needed was the help of a teenage boy who was furious at being torn away from his screen for almost five minutes.
Luckily I already had one of those in the house, so he was summoned to briefly perform the holding the door duties I required of him. Thanks son!
A set of two hinges cost me £11.99, which is considerably cheaper than buying a new shed, or paying someone to come and fix it for you. The only tools I needed were a screwdriver and a teenage boy. Though a teenage girl would be equally useful, I just didn’t have one to hand.

Once the hinges had been replaced, the doors worked perfectly and I was really very pleased with my efforts. It’s such a small thing in the grand scheme of things, but those small things add up. I was very much emboldened by my early success with the hinges, and that’s led me to keep cracking on with tackling the small things.
It’s also led me to Google some probably very unwise things, like “how to render an outside wall” or “how to replace a kitchen yourself”. I do need to know my limits, but also it’s important to remember that I can do things for myself. I am capable and I’m slowly turning my house into something really quite lovely. And if I can do it, then you absolutely can too!
Please do follow me and my home improvement journey.








