I managed to complete the painting today. The entire hall looks very bright and white now. The entire house also smells of paint. It will need a jolly good airing tomorrow.
I took another photo of the stairs today to try and show the colour when bathed in sunlight.
This time I took the shot from the top of the stairs and the colour at the bottom is pretty true.
The six pictures are Japanese calligraphy. Each one is a character that means something (happiness, love, etc). Years ago, when Mirinda stopped off in Japan, a Buddhist monk painted them for her. We think they’re beautiful and I think they look quite dramatic against the white wall.
The only thing that happened out of the ordinary today was a visit from the woman who lives at number 32. Yesterday a parcel was delivered to them but they were out so I took it in for them. It then sat by the front door waiting for retrieval. No-one came and I was a bit concerned that they’d gone away and we’d miss them when they returned (seeing as we’re off to the Isle of Wight on Friday).
I had just finished sealing the front door with masking tape, ahead of painting it when a knock scared the daylights out of me. Normally I would have had a bit of warning but the noisiest members of the house were taken to the kennel this morning. I stood up (I was bending over, filling the roller with paint) and the woman was standing the other side of the glass looking a bit beseeching.
While most of the street is very friendly with frequent queries about everyone’s health (“Hi, how are you?”) and nary a missed opportunity to say “Hello”, the people at number 32 are somewhat distant. I don’t know why. I wouldn’t actually recognise them in the street, to be honest. I took a guess and assumed it was her.
You see, having just taped the door up, had it been a salesperson or one of those annoying people who knock on the door throughout the day during the week, I would have told them to…well, to go away because I’d just taped the door up. Seeing as it was a neighbour and I had her parcel, I sighed and removed half the tape then ripped off the rest by opening the door.
She was very apologetic – it was quite obvious what I was doing seeing as I had a paint roller in my hand, white paint all over me and a dust cloth on the floor – and started to show me the card the delivery guy had left her. I just smiled, reached behind me, grabbed and handed her the box (I think they were shoes or something in a shoe box). She apologised again and went off, box clasped in her arms.
I closed the door and re-taped it, vowing not to open it again for anyone until the paint was dry. I did manage this but only because no-one else knocked. It could have been the big sign I put outside telling people I was defusing a bomb and they shouldn’t come too close.
So, basically, that was my day, with a bit of tidying and floor washing thrown in.