My fabric studio desperately needed a coat of wood preservative. Every time it rained I watched as the rain soaked into the wooden exterior, instead of rolling off it’s waterproof protection. The parting words of the company who built it for me were ‘don’t forget you’ll need to use wood preservative once a year’; er, that was nearly 3 years ago!! How time flies. So, spurred on from finally finishing the jewellery studio re-build after 3 years, the original blue box studio in colour, shape and purpose, I talked about sorting out this one. Home came the all the tins of Garden Shades wood preservative, shall we have ‘willow’ or shall we go for ‘sea grass’? Lots of bits of wood were used as testers and we settled on ‘willow’ and headed for the DIY store with a 10% off day and double Nectar points – not that I’m influenced by these things, I have loyalty cards for just about anyone who will give me one.
Armed with my shopping list and paint chart we find the right aisle and seek out our target. Big tins, little tins, sample pots, Heritage colours, they are all there. Now, you do not have to be a Mastermind finalist to work out that the big tin is twice the size of the small tin (and we probably need 2 of them) but the small tin is nowhere near as cheap as 1/2 the price of the big tin. The more you buy the cheaper this gets. More to the point, it was ‘buy one get one half price’ on the big tins.
So, we know the colour, we know the size of tin. Sadly the store didn’t. You clearly cannot have all of the colours in all of the sizes. Shuffling in the wings from DH who is now bored. So, fate is asked to take a hand. I will have whatever greenish tinged paint that has 2 big tins on the shelf. I then unload the entire shelf, I know no shame (unlike DH who decides that reading labels in another aisle is the better part of valour right now), in search of 2 of anything. Lined up, my choice is limited to cream (nope) or Wild Thyme. Still with no shame I shout along the next aisle to DH ‘shall we have wild thyme?’, to be misunderstood by most of the store who think something interesting is happening in aisle 7. There is, if you think a middle aged woman rearranging the paint tins is exciting! Thankfully no one is that perverted, the crowd disperses and DH shuffles back with his red face to pick up my paint tins and heads for the door. I have a sneaking suspicion he no longer cared about the colour.
Bribery ensues, and DH helps me paint my studio in return for a take-away. Fortunately it doesn’t take as long as we thought and it soon looked as good as new again. Better, actually, it wasn’t a ghastly shade of bright orange.
Now all we need is the rain, to watch the rain drops ball on my newly painted surface. I am easily amused.