A painter's outfit.
Have you ever painted your own walls ? You know, wielding the roller or paint brush up, down and across your walls. Somehow it always looks easier than it really is.
Didn't we all start our painter's journey as teenagers by putting our stamp of " I am different to you / I am not like you " on one of their bedroom walls. Depending how much we wanted to irritate our parents, the colours would range from plain pink right through to a dark turbulent black !
Of course when we finally took that yearned for first step out of home, painting the walls of our new abode morphed from a rebellious act into one of necessity. Ironic, how we only find what a cushy life we had as kids, once we have to feather our own nest ! Maybe that's why there is this resurgence of " Hotel Mama "...
Anyway, painting walls apart from being jolly backbreaking work, is also extremely messy. It doesn't matter how carefully you place that roller because it is nine times out of ten surrounded by an entourage of a fine mist of paint that views us as its desired destination.
Yesterday, proudly sporting my painter's outfit, I was waiting for Bob to finish a task at the Village office. A bunch of our ' English ' kids bounced passed me. Bounced is the right word, because they were like puppies, hopping from one place to the next and talking excitedly to each other. They waved gaily and greeted me in English, making me feel proud.
The main pup, Maxi, is known for talking almost non-stop and flitting from one topic to another at incredible speed. Yet, all I got from him, was that he was glad school was over, because it was " boring "...Stupid question, because who of us found school exciting ?
One of the slightly older boys, stood, turned while at the same time taking one look at my outfit. He preceded to raise his eyebrows while having a smile on his face. A smile that meant; ' good grief, what was she thinking ? '
A pair of my old jeans, an old jersey and an over sized pair of Wellies had been designated as my outfit for painting. Secretly I thought that I had achieved a look that said " painter-chic ". Delusional, as it turns out !
Please, please let me not be one of those " Mutton dressed as Lamb types "...The scary things is that once you are, no one has the guts to tell you that you are a Mutton in disguise !!!
It definitely was one of those moments, where you can't wait to explain the ' where / when / how ' of something. In my case it was my outfit. But typically, before I could even say one word, the group of ' pups ' had moved on. From now on, I will most likely be described as the " mad painter "...