I got Bank Holiday fever yesterday. By this I mean that strange compulsion with comes over English folk to spend a nice sunny ‘day-off’ altering their surroundings. Yes, I refer to DIY – often called ‘Destroy-It-Yourself’.
Now, I didn’t go for anything particularly complicated – I didn’t re-wire the whole house or build a forty foot conservatory or anything ambitious. I simply painted and wallpapered the front room (although I live in the South-West, I’m a Midlands girl at heart and it will never be the ‘lounge’ or ‘sitting-room’ – always the front room).
As you may have guessed from the title of today’s post, I’m not a great one for preparation, fine finishes etc. Bung the paper up, slap on the paint, run away and look at it from a distance, it’ll be fine. That’s my style.
So much so that I didn’t see any need to go to the bother of tracking down a ladder – why, when there’s a perfectly adequate pouffe I can stand on for the high bits? It worked very well, too – until the incident I shall refer to as Act of Dog.
My Collie has never accepted the concept that cats have rights too, such as the right to breathe for example. So there am I, standing on the pouffe. It has wheels. I’m papering the chimney breast, so the hearth is in the way, preventing me from butting the pouffe up against the wall. So I’m leaning… leaning… pressing paper onto wall, trying to make neat seams… leaning…
…and the cat says something in the kitchen (I don’t know what she said, something along the lines of ‘Miaaow’ I expect. She’s not got a very varied vocabulary, although she can do an impressive set of scales). Mad Dog comes down the stairs at warp speed, careers around the door frame, dodges the pasting table and barges the pouffe out of her way. The pouffe reverses out from under me and I fall flat on my face into the bowl of wallpaper paste.
Maybe it’s good for the skin.