After a period of procrastination, today I finally bit the bullet and purchased a tin of gloss and emulsion. A move meaning I can now begrudgingly undertake the oft postponed decorating on my ensuite bathroom.
Devoid of excuses, I can no longer put this laborious task on the back burner. So with this in mind, I’ve provisionally pencilled in the work for a few days in October 2019.
Like the ability to control your bladder overnight, enthusiasm for decorating diminishes in middle age. These days, I greet both getting out of bed for a pee at 3am and the thought of emulsioning the walls with a petulant grumble and a paucity of enthusiasm.
In a time when I wore a younger man’s clothes, I didn’t mind decorating the modestly sized rooms dans chez Strachan. Call it youthful exuberance, a more tolerant persona or a lot less detritus to deal with in my existence, but in those days I decorated every room at least once every two years.
Those were halcyon days bereft of hospital visits, enjoyable hobbies such as football and cricket, along with being subject to lesser strains of insomnia and cynicism.
I never found the emulsioning and glossing of my plasterboard walls and accompanying woodwork a chore in those days.
Without a grumble, I’d don my painting scruffs, dig out my old radio and sing along heartily to Gregorian Chant FM, as I brushed or rolled on Dulux’s Incessant Blue or Crown’s Encrypted Scarlet.
In those days, it really wasn’t any hassle freshening up the chambers of my domain.
In addition, I won a few brownie points from the missus for the fruits of my labour. I’d have preferred Nectar points, but ‘beggars can’t be the truth of all they survey’ as they say in the book Non-existent Metaphors & Idioms.
Well at least I’ve got until October 2019 to motivate myself for the task ahead. My wife Karen isn’t happy, foolishly possessing unreasonable expectations of me painting the ensuite “By the end of 2018 at the latest.”
I’m writing this narrative sitting in a waiting room at the oncology unit of a Leeds hospital. My wife is currently undergoing her four weekly treatment, as I wax lyric about decorating avoidance.
The staff here are fantastic. One of the orderly’s has just amiably asked if they can get me anything. I asked for the number of a reasonably priced decorator, but she meant tea or coffee apparently….. Oops!
The waiting room is inordinately quiet today, the smaller numbers of patients resulting in Karen being seen earlier than her scheduled appointment.
Someone sat closely opined the smaller number of patients maybe the result of meteorological spring commencing tomorrow….. It’s an interesting theory, however I suspect its probably linked to the diversion signs I put up earlier to route patients to a different wing.
When my missus has finished her treatment, we will return back to our humble abode where we will celebrate Shrove Tuesday with homemade pancakes.
After a feast of bacon, lemon and sugar crepes, Karen and I start 40 days of abstention from an indulgence for Lent.
My wee spouse is to give up chocolate and I’m giving up decorating!….. What do you mean stuff you don’t do anyway doesn’t count?