Sunday February 10, 2008
The trouble with painting your front door is that you can’t go out until the paint is dry. Get your timing wrong and you can find yourself sitting around waiting for it to dry when you’d really like to shut up the house and go off for a siesta.
Drives me nuts, does that.
Graham doesn’t seem to mind, though, and I got sent off on my own for a weekend shop while he finished the final coat and then moved on to re-finishing tables, filling the entire house with the slightly sour smell of beeswax.
“Why don’t you just varnish the things,” I said when I got home, edging very carefully past the gleaming front door.
“I like polishing.”
“Fair enough. I’ll stow this lot and, if you please, it’s time for espresso.”
The aroma of good espresso doesn’t completely dispel the pong of beeswax, but it goes a long way towards it.
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