Our lounge/living room/dining-room-stroke-TV-room/comfy room/sitting room/drawing room/salon was painted on Sunday. Pewter it said on the tin. Under the harsh lights of the DIY store it looked like a nice cool modern shade. On the walls of our sitting room it looked dark grey. Not very attractive. We wasted a whole Sunday painting. Sore limbs and paint in the hair by 8pm but we hoped it would grow on us. I came downstairs on Monday morning and walked into the grey room and stopped dead in my tracks. The room looked like the inside of an oven. Or a jail cell in a bad, ‘wobbly-sets’ TV movie. Or Billy Mitchells flat in Eastenders.
We endured Monday evening TV (Six Feet Under and The Sopranos) in the grey room but instead of lingering over the studly James Gandolfini my eyes kept wandering over the grey walls causing me huge waves of despair.
Tuesday night saw me back at the DIY store purchasing brilliant white emulsion (which was the original colour before Sunday). The ovens days are numbered.