I am never going to cheat again and buy one coat gloss. Dad and I shake our heads ruefully over my attempt to avoid the smell, mess and sheer asthma exacerbating nuisance that is undercoat + liquid professional gloss. He's tried it. Now I have. I run my hands over the surface and think it looks like sort of shiny undercoat. Not good enough, and a rush job anyway - the sun was shining and I wanted to go outside. I've agonised over curtains, comparing the benefits of butterflies (which I love) over a spray of bright pink flowers (which I also love) They both go with the soft gray of the new paint, which tones at last with the hideous gray and pink 50s fireplace. And I have my photocanvas on the wall. I step back and look at posts and stones and think "did I do that?"
Consequently the rest of the house looks like a bomb site with bits of unfinished everything everywhere. The garden is a mess of pulled up bulbs and compost that needs sweeping up, the summer shirt collection is heaped on the ironing board and half the garden seems to have visited the kitchen floor. My prayer partner comes round Saturday - always a fabulous kick up the bum to tidy up!!
I'm re reading Sue Black's " a life in death" and it is even better the second time round. She has a light touch of humour and a passion for forensic anthropology. I really liked her "history cold case" series several years ago. Good book.
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