When I first started school, there were some things that I learnt very quickly. That little girls like to crawl under the door to watch little boys pee; that glass milk bottles get extremely cold when left outside in the winter; and that I should never EVER be allowed to hold a loaded paint brush.
Whenever I was forced to pick up a paintbrush, it was always a disaster. If the paint got in my hair, it hurt when it got combed out. If the paint got on my hands, it hurt when my hands were scrubbed by an annoyed nun. If the paint got on my clothes, it hurt when I got a walloping at home later that day. The likelihood of me successfully applying the paint to the target area of paper (or toilet roll or cereal box) were tiny. The likelihood of me getting into a lot of trouble for making quite a bit of mess, were by comparison, huge. Furthermore I hated getting messy, well actually I still do, I’m a very clean boy you see. No really, pure and spotless, through and through.
Anyway, I never liked painting, I never wanted to paint and I was never any good at it and this remains true to this day. Giving me a paintbrush is likely to get the same result as offering it to a chimp high on caffeine. The paint will go anywhere and everywhere, with the possible exception of where it’s actually supposed to be going.
So imagine my horror when I realised that the new garden shed (10′ by 5′ !!!) needed to be painted, inside and out, before it could be built. Painted with an Acorn Brown waterproofing paint.
The fence is now Acorn Brown. The lawn is now Acorn Brown. Barnaby the new puppy is now Acorn Brown. Many of the apples still on the apple tree, are now Acorn Brown. I am now more Acorn Brown than that orange antique bloke off the telly.
Oh sure, some of the Acorn Brown did actually make it onto the shed, but it looks rubbish. Like a two year old did it.
And now I see that the paint manufacturers want me to apply a second coat!! Well they can get knotted.