Fresh As Paint

I’ve been stuck up a ladder this week, papering the walls.  We had dry rot a while ago.  Don’t have dry rot; it’s less fun than fog at a football match.  The walls were stripped of plaster, the floorboards became a thing of the past, the house stank of chemicals and, when it was all over, I had a bare wall with no paper which couldn’t be covered up for months.  Wouldn’t it be nice, I brightly thought, to have some wall-paper once more?  And, while I’m at it, I might as well do the rest of the downstairs too. So I’m now covered in paint and knackered.

 

 I don’t know what it is about spring, but the urge to decorate creeps up insidiously.  First of all you notice the sitting-room, where you’ve mouldered gently all winter, looks a bit dingy, the next thing you’re in B and Q, squandering the family fortunes on Paint.

 

When did paint get so complicated?  I’m sure I remember the days when it used to come in two sorts; gloss and emulsion.  Gloss was shiny and went on to wood and radiators.  It niffed to High Heaven, took ages to dry, had the temperament of a prima ballerina or Derby winner – and so did I when cat, child or dog came too close – and you had to sluice yourself off with white spirit after using it. Even then, the average gloss-user looked like an Australian Aboriginal painting of dream-time.  Dots, you know.  Also spots and streaks.  Emulsion, a much gentler medium, (mostly) washed off with water – unless it went on the carpet when nothing short of sand-blasting would remove it. 

 

It’s all got confused.  Gloss is no longer universally shiny – it isn’t glossy if you see what I mean – and, although it washes off with water, I don’t know if it’s worth the effort. And as for emulsion… It comes in White, Magnolia and Colours.  White and magnolia are supplied in industrial-sized vats that take two blokes the size of Rugby Forwards to lift.  (Damn the paint – I’ll settle for the transport!) but Colours are more manageable sizes. However, the colours are downright peculiar.

 

 We’ve all learned, since the excesses of the 1970’s not to say Beige – that’s The Colour That Dare Not Speak It’s Name – and substitute cooler sounder words such as Oatmeal, Sand, Stone and Biscuit, but whoever compiles colour charts has left such innocent variations as Biscuit far, far behind.  Cracked Clay; Twisted Bamboo; Quilted Calico.  It’s like some sort of cipher.  

 

I mean, I fancied doing the sitting-room in powder blue.  So is that Wild Water, Atlantic Surf, Velvet Touch or Inky Pool.  Inky Pool?  Or perhaps I should go for Opulent or Cape Wrath. Uh? I just wanted blue…