Monday 5 April 2010
06:24 | Posted by
Dale Darley |
Standing in the large room in my paint splattered jeans and T-shirt, I surveyed my blank canvas, 4 walls waiting for the caress of my paint brush to be coated in colours that would entice lovers to sink nightly into each others arms.
Everyone loves blue, dark, light, powder, bright, royal, mystical, exciting and calming. A colour for nights of love or sleep after the hectic torment of a day in work.
The pot in front of me was pale, fresh and new, gentle like the emerging spring morning. The label declared powder blue.
Hands on hips I smiled. The bright sun was streaming though the windows, I turned my face upwards, closed my eyes, the warmth kissed me, it was a beautiful day. Outside the tall leafy tree hid me from the passers by, alone in my world. Screw driver in hand I opened up the paint. The smell permeated my nostrils, I sniffed deep, acrid chemicals crept up my nose and lingered just a moment too long at the back of my throat. As I placed the lid on the bare floorboards I imagined how the room will look once finished, carpeted and adorned with our bed covered in new linen, selected to match the style being created.
Only this weekend this room would know my spite, no colours for sex but soft powder blue, the colour he hated, a colour that would remind him of his childhood. The lazy man that I had chosen to buy a house with had decided once again that he had better things to do. At the suggestion that our bedroom needed completing he had donned his black leathers climbed aboard his fast motorbike and sped away to friends in London.
I sighed. Paint brush in hand, I dipped it into the thick goo, coated, I was ready for the attack. A lunacy came over me as I ran at the wall, slapped the brush hard against it and watched paint being splattered everywhere. I snarled. I jabbed like a sword fight using the brush as my rapier into the wallpaper. The wallpaper that I had single handedly put up only the week before. Only to be criticised for air pockets as he strutted around the room, spitefully pointing out my mistakes. Well take that, I cried as I jabbed again. Hysterical laughter filled the air, I looked around to see where it was coming from, it was me. I stopped and took a hold of myself, deep breath I had a room to paint.
The off white wallpaper slowly disappeared and became cool calming blue pages, blank waiting for the rest of the story to unfold.
Sitting in the doorway, Jonesy, a black and white cat kept me company. I didn’t know until years later that this cat belonged to someone else, he became my permanent companion as I created a home from the mess.
My stomach rumbled it was time for tea and biscuits. I put down the loaded brush and wiped my hands down my already crusty jeans and clomped down the bare stairs to the old cream kettle. Minutes later I was back hot steaming cup in hand to survey my work. Sipping slowly as I reviewed my art. Powder blue, colour hex code #B0E0E6, just a number not a spell, nothing to symbolize and strengthen this relationship.
Slurping the dregs of the tea, I inhaled deeply, I was satisfied with my efforts. The light was now fading from the window, hours had passed in the now tranquil room and a soft shadow fell. I packed up and made for home, certain that tomorrow would bring another deluge of comments about my handy work. Who cared?
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