It’s Monday, and it’s normally Lit Kid. It’ll come, folks, it will. Just not tonight.
It’s easy to be high on children’s books, but tonight, it’s fumes from white spirits. I have been learning the slow and delicate art of gloss painting.
I doubt anyone is going to take me on as a painter, but that’s not the point. It means we’ve finished off the room we were painting recently: walls, and now woodwork.
Deep in the recesses of my brain, I had some recollection of one of those DIY diagrams which tell you in which order to paint panels on doors. I don’t know if I got it right, but I did paint it panel by panel, and managed not to miss any.
Tonight, I even painted my old bedside table, knocked at the corners and looking pretty grubby. I was able to see that, once upon a time, it used to be a pale blue. No idea at what stage it turned white, but now it is genuinely white again.
There are gloss painting aficianados. I’m starting to realise why, a little. It’s slow work, methodical. I gather that in the past, when gloss was a lot more drippy, it was even more of a skill.
The plus side, I guess, is the sheen on what you paint. You may not have the most amazing coverage of what you’re painting (and I don’t), but all of a sudden, there’s a shine to the whole thing. It’s very gratifying, particularly on larger surfaces like doors.
The greater achievement, I feel, is the removal of two key items from my DIY list: the airing cupboard door, and the bedside table.
They’ve been on there for several years, so it seems, migrating from one year’s notebook to another with no feeling of urgency.
Gloss painting isn’t urgent either. That’s quite nice. A friend showed me how to wrap the brush in a plastic bag, so you don’t have to wash it out if you are back to paint soon after. Also good.
I open the white spirits, finally at an end and ready to clean up. Quickly, I am transported back to my six-year-old self, looking on at my dad painting miniature figures. Humbrol paints (tiny pots), white spirit to clean the delicate brushes.
It doesn’t do to linger over paint thinners, it’s true, but I like the happy memories associated with that certain smell. Admiring someone else’s efforts, and now, my own.