Thinking outside the box

There's Men and Sheds and Shed Men. The Shed Book sounds gender-neutral until the blurb gives away its view that "the garden shed is an icon of national identity, and holds a special place in the hearts of British men. Often described as a sanctuary from the outside world and the other half, a man's shed begins where a boy's bedroom leaves off, allowing him space for the prized objects and boyish dreams there is seldom room for inside the house".

Women authors have fought back with Shed Chic and Stylish Sheds and Elegant Hideaways, but the emphasis is still on sheddism. Chris Sneesby has taken some brave decisions to try and change that. There used to be a shed in his garden too. No longer. It's been replaced by something that's been likened to…well, judge for yourself: a pine cone, pineapple, coconut, deep-sea diver's helmet, space capsule and a Chocolate Orange with a porthole.

Sneesby calls it a pod and, for marketing purposes, probably the first spherical office designed to be planted next to lawns and flowerbeds.

On a personal level creating it has been a kind of therapy. He used to work for a company specialising in modular construction techniques. Squares and rectangles are fine for schools and hospitals but after 13 years Sneesby wearied of building boxes. In his spare time he gained a degree in architecture at Leeds Metropolitan University and began thinking of ways to turn prefabricated parts into a more exciting end product. He came up with a workplace he thinks is unique.

Now that computer technology and environmental considerations are transforming so many aspects of life, including how and where people earn a living, his pod ticks numerous lifestyle boxes – but definitely doesn't look like one.

Sneesby's prototype, a surreal contrast to the traditional conservatory over the fence at his neighbour's house in Wheldrake, near York, convinced him that the idea of commuting to work in the garden, in imaginative surroundings, represents a business opportunity. Despite having a young family he quit his job and with a redundancy package backed by a bank loan he's poised to go into production from a rented workshop in a village nearby.

The pod costs considerably more than your average shed but the claim is that its advanced design offers savings in other ways, plus the wider advantages of working from home, though in this case separated from the distractions in a house.

A boxy structure in the garden tends to encourage pottering among tins of old paint, weedkiller and rusty nails. Sneesby's concept is that customers will find his sphere more like an office and conducive to computers and serious employment. The present model has an internal diameter of three metres and a height of 2.5m from the floor to its hinged domed skylight, so it's hardly obtrusive.

Unconventional, yes, but the neighbours haven't complained and the timber-framed shape and its parts are intended to blend with the landscape. And Sneesby is right when he says the pod is roomier and brighter than it appears from the outside.

Externally it's cladded with shingles made from North American western red cedar which is durable and insect-resistant, and there's a gull-wing door. Insulation is said to exceed normal building regulations and minimises noise as well as being weather-proof. Internal fixtures include electric heating and power sockets supplied by a cable from the house, a semi-circular desk, plastered and decorated walls, a double-

glazed window, concealed lighting and spotlights when required, and a carpeted floor.

It costs about 12,000 including installation on a solid base, but Sneesby points out that it's cheaper than building a house extension, causes far less disruption and is bureaucracy-free because it has the same classification as a garden shed and is unlikely to require planning permission.

Components are produced in his workshop and can be carried through a house for assembly in the garden, which in normal circumstances takes about a week.

Sneesby can modify the design to suit individual needs and for those who can't imagine what the pod would look like alongside their chrysanthemums, email him a photograph of the proposed location and he'll produce a photomontage. If you don't want an office, the structure can be adapted to a play or hobby room, a studio, or even what he terms a "meditation" area – a role which countless humble sheds have fulfilled for generations.

"I've nothing against them but I wanted to create something different," says Sneesby. "I'm a bit of a mad maker of things and circular structures interest me. They're pleasing on the eye. With modular buildings the construction business tends to shy away from anything round or spherical because making parts for them, curved panels for instance, is more complicated. I wasn't sure how the idea would turn out but was encouraged by what computerised images told me

"It's been a real challenge. As an example I intend to plaster the interior walls on site to provide a better finish but a craftsman told me that wasn't possible with a sphere. I tried it and he was right if you use a normal tool. I've now designed a trowel that can do the job on an unorthodox shape. I've learned, experimented and refined and I'm thrilled with the end result."

He's confident the garden pod's time has arrived. "Commuting is increasingly fraught and expensive and at the same time technology and changing business practices are enabling more of us to work from home. It's a chance to build a different kind of office, one that's intimate, bright, warm and exciting, and it coincides with a wider public interest in design. We're being encouraged to question why we live, work and play in dull boxes."

Sneesby cites another advantage of the pod. If its foundations are sound – a sphere's aerodynamics make it able to withstand severe winds, "unlike a garden fence, as I know from bitter experience."