I haven’t blogged in ages, partly because I have nowhere to sit and mostly because I am decorating. The reason why I don’t have anywhere to sit is because I’M DECORATING! So what! Who cares! Cheryl’s been sacked. And Robbie’s back in Take That. These events for some are far more important, unless of course you live in my flat and then the 15% Off Homebase Bank Holiday Weekend Offer will be one of the highlights of your weekend. Some of the girls have gone to see the reincarnation of Robbie in Take That. Not me, no, I don’t care if he’s HOT or not, I have decisions to make; a feature wall, or not, satin finish or matt, yellow, green, blue or purple, or not…
I have been invited out. Honest! I just don’t think my teal green smeared hands and feet are a good look. Even I know that. I think gloss painting must be like childbirth. One forgets how painful it is, until the next gloss paint birthing experience.
How do I know how to decorate? Well needs must and I enjoy it, for the first few hours. My friends think I’ve become a recluse. I’m all pale and wan, with only trips to Homebase and Ikea in the daylight hours. One of my friends suggested removing a door to create the illusion of more space. Another of my friends baulked at my tester pot raspberry and custard combinations. I like raspberry and custard. And rhubarb and custard, but that is a different cartoon.
Everything I own is crammed into my living room and that was already overcrowded before I began. Hence, nowhere to sit. I kicked a full cup of coffee on the carpet, it sort of blends in with the teal green gloss stains that I’ve been scrubbing with turps. I don’t know which is the better high, turps, gloss paint or paint stripper. Jury’s out. I spilled half the tin of gloss, luckily I’d covered that part of carpet with polythene. It’s all in the preparation you know. I did buy green gloss. Yes really. I will know if this was the right decision by the expression on friend’s faces when they visit.
It isn’t just any old green. Green like every other colour has a variant of shades and hues. The green I chose had to match the purple! Yes purple! You see it all began back in the 60’s when my vintage curtains were made. I love them. They do a good black out job. They’re a bit frayed and a bit torn, but I love them and they are that 1960’s/70’s deep purple and teal green. They were my muse for the decorating palette. Deep Purple and Teal Green. Teal Green is an excellent name for a rock band, don’t you think.
On reflection and with hindsight, perhaps I would have chosen brilliant white, trouble is it reminds me of toothpaste. Then there’s the conservative can’t go wrong magnolia, but then I’d be living my mother’s life. Then there’s those hint ofs. Hint of pink, hint of blue, hint of purple, but those whispers of are not a statement of. My feature wall is deep purple, which is a hoot really, because the wall isn’t really big enough to state anything.
I did take the door off. My friend laughed as if I were joking when I said I was going to have a beaded 70’s divider curtain and a light switch cover saying, “You Turn Me On.” Jodi Foster switched a light switch with exactly that emblazoned on it in the film Taxi Driver. Go on, check, freeze frame it and post to FB. So, if it’s good enough for Jodi Foster, then it’s good enough for me.
My hands feel like dermatitis, my days are nights, my nights are days. Even when waiting of sleep I am painting or stripping, (steady), or glossing. The nightmare’s begin with the Ikea flat pack instruction pamphlet. Will it fit? Will it match? Where does this spare shelf go? Today was my first trip to Ikea since the 1980’s. Really! The metal contraption I wanted was nowhere near isle 36, space 33. Somewhat bewildered, I went back to the sales assistant who had already told me where to look from the database information on the computer.
“But it’s not there.” I whined pitifully.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Fingernails scraping the data base again.
“Isle 36, space 33.” She repeated.
“I’ve looked.” I assured her. “It’s not there.”
“We have 31 in stock. If they aren’t in the self service warehouse, then I don’t know where they are.” She snapped, with a finality in her voice.
“Ah! ” The light bulb shone in my head. I had been looking in the wrong place, namely the shop floor. Silly place to look for merchandise that’s for sale. OBVIOUSLY! I was meant to be looking in the warehouse, which is usually a staff only sort of place. So, the warehouse then. Isle 36, space 33, I was getting warmer now. Flippin’ Scandinavians coming over here, taking all our jobs 😉
Traffic was hideous. Car park was like an ice rink over crowded by amateurs. I pulled into a loading bay that a woman had apparently “booked”. By this time I wasn’t in the mood. She pointed toward other further away spots that she would prefer me to occupy. I mouthed something rude through my windscreen and gesticulated with my arms as if I were Italian. The hint was taken and she moved, albeit reluctantly and I felt a guilty pride, as I had been the direct cause of the slapped arse look on her face.
I’d forgotten Bank Holidays could be such fun. And so I sit and “Contemplate my fate,” as my paint dries and I let the psychedelic colour scheme sink in. Will I still like it in the same way when the decorating high subsides. Yes, I think so and if the truth be known, anything would have been an improvement on the previous occupier’s taste of caramel brown. I suppose like for any colour, there is a time and a place. And if a fella asks me , “Why can’t I wake up with you?” I’ll say, you can, just bring your shades.