Tuesday, 25 May 2010

A Painted House

Giving our house a much-needed lick of paint has been on the agenda for a while, because at the top of the hill we are exposed to the wind and rain. The wet and cold climate puts the paint to a real test and it was high time to do something. Years of dirt and grime had caked the surfaces and black algae thrived in the shaded areas. It wasn’t until we started cleaning it that we realized how bad it really was. But a few days of scrubbing and washing with the pressure washer revealed the bright yellow paint underneath. The house almost appeared to be shining as we came up the driveway.
It actually looked very nice and sunny and I almost began to regret my decision of going for a lighter more discreet greyish green colour. But I had grown tired of yellow and the paint had already been bought (at great cost, I might add), so I kept my second thoughts to myself, fearing that Hubby would perform his raised eyebrows sigh and utter his usual “No comment” that he always does when he thinks I’m being daft. Besides, one must trust one’s instincts, mustn’t one? And mine said that greyish green would look stylish.
A problem that quickly appeared was how to reach all the nooks and crannies, particularly the gables. The house has been extended in different stages and getting all the gables painted meant climbing on to the roof. Hubby spent a few frustrated hours going around shops and searching the Internet for a roof hook for the ladder but it was not to be found. – Rent a lift, people told us. But that was not an option either, as it would be too difficult to manoeuvre into place. So Hubby had to climb, something neither he nor Husfruen was very happy about. After a few attempts of trying to juggle everything up, while Husfruen bit her nails watching from the ground, he thankfully decided to throw in the towel. It was time to recognize the fact that rock climbing (or roof climbing, as may be the case) is a hobby he really needn’t ever seriously contemplate.

THE DREADED GABLES are in a difficult position to reach. Balancing on the roof isn't Hubby's cup of tea.
Rescue came in our nephew Henning. Thin and wiry, weighing all of 60 kilos, the climb didn't represent much of a challenge to him. Quick and steady as a mountain goat he sprinted up and got the job done in no time. Refusing to use the safety rope we had spent hours painstakingly arranging, he balanced on the tiles, bucket in one hand, brush in the other, cigarette dangling from his lips and his mobile nonchalantly tucked between his ear and shoulder. Obviously he wanted to multitask and try to chat up a particular blonde while he had the time. Or else he listened to Slipknot (hardcore rock) on full volume. Today’s news of their bassist dying was a blow.

MOUNTAIN GOAT. Nephew Henning couldn't be bothered for long wearing the safety belt. He was more concerned with chatting up girls on his mobile.
MEN AT WORK. Hubby and Henning busy on the north facing wall above the garage.
In just three days we had the first coat of paint on and I will say that my instincts were good. It looks fantastic. But painting it is said, is the art of protecting flat surfaces from the weather and exposing them to the critics. So please let your comments rain upon us.

VOILA! Our freshly painted house in all its glory.

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