When the time came to paint the interior of this house Banjo Man (master painter and decorator) advised cream shades throughout. I agreed. It all seemed so simple. Then he starts complicating the issue, brings out sheaves of paint cards. Who knew there were so many shades of off white and cream? And the colours that I picked of the cards were always wrong. It was too dark, too pale or too ‘cold’. Eventually I said, “You choose. After all you’re the one who has got to slap on gallons of the stuff throughout the house.” So he did and all was well.
So we move on to exteriors. Barge boards and so on. Ollie is our outside painter. I say red, he says no. It’s a period house. Red screams new. Grey fits in. I agree. But who knew there were so many shades of grey. I come home from 25 hours in Mingerton and Ollie is following me around with shade cards – all grey. I like that one. Too dark. I like this one. Too light. You pick. I trust your judgement. Leave me alone! Window frames? Feck off. Whatever you like! I don’t care. Just paint the fucking house and leave me alone!
It has been a crazy evening. Leitrim sister was visiting and the silage cutting gang has been here and not one single hen run over even though half a million quid’s worth of agricultural machinery has been flying through the yard all evening long.
This time next week I shall be in London. It is one year today since my father died.