Clumsy

This afternoon, after climbing up a wobbly step ladder to chop down several branches of a neighbours overhanging tree, that's bearing cob nuts for that naughty squirrel to take and bury in my pots, I decided I couldn't put doing the 'garden painting' off any longer.  I  bravely entered the Shed of Sinister Spiders and had a poke around the cobwebby shelves and managed to find half a pot of garish terracotta coloured paint.  It's not my favourite colour and clashes 'orribly with the pink flowers, but couldn't be bothered to go to the DIY store to make tricky fence-paint decisions.  So, I grabbed a big fat brush, dipped it in the paint tin, plugged some music in my ears and got going, singing as I splattered it on.

I spent an hour, clumsily splish-splashing my fences, bench, shed, grass, a few plants that got in the way of my wild, paint-sweeping, waving arm, plus my top, trousers, face, hair and Converse. 

I've still got the trellis bits on top of the fences to do though.  I think I might need a smaller brush and more patience with those though, as I don't think my neighbours will appreciate their plants (and side of their fence) speckled with orange.


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