Painting

I hate painting. In fact, I think I really hate painting. I mean - I'm a big, clumsy sort of guy - we're not cut out for that sort of thing. And I don't do heights either - mountains are fine, but ladders and me - no, not a good combination, I assure you!

Mind you, the living room is half-finished, and the kitchen does need it - desperately. So I suppose I'd better put up with it. I have already had one friend come and do the high bits of the living room for me after all, plus all the cornicing; for which I was really grateful as I don't know how I'd have managed otherwise. Well, I suspect I do actually - I'd have had to pay somebody else to do it for me...!

It's the mess. People say, "oh, the good thing about emulsion is, it just washes out." Not when it's all over your t-shirt it doesn't - and my hardly-worn, if slightly oversized trousers. So I just wear boxers now - but even then, it gets everywhere - elbows, underarms, thighs, belly, backside - I mean, I ask you - is it really worth all the effort?

And what really gets to me is how it just takes over! I mean, my home's not my own anymore - the entire kitchen is a mass of paintbrushes, bits of roller, tins of paint, newspaper, tissue and wonderful, chemical-laden decorators wipes (thank you whoever invented these - they're a lifesaver); and I can neither cook, nor wash-up. Meanwhile, the rest of my flat is increasingly filled with bits that should be in the kitchen! It's a nightmare - and I just want it to be over - NOW!!!

Needless to say, my mother's coming to stay - the week after next - and not only that, she's invited her sister round to visit! Why do I get the feeling my home isn't going to be my own for quite a bit longer than just while I'm painting?!! I mean - they grew up in a scruffy council property, invariably dressed in poor quality, second hand or home made clothes as kids and rarely had two halfpennies to their names - so while I understand their efforts to better themselves as adults, where's all the pretentiousness come from? Everything has to be just so - and if you know me at all, you'll know that I really don't do just-so - any more than I do heights, or painting...

But they're not snobs of course - my mother often reminds you of the fact. Deeply worrying that...