You would think after twenty years or so being involved with choosing paint colours, etc, for photography room-sets that I would have a pretty good idea of what was what.
I always fall into the same trap of looking at the minuscule rectangle of colour on a tester book in the paint shop and thinking 'yeah, that's good, naaah, don't need a tester pot, let's just go for the hideously expensive two and a half litres — it'll be fine.'
It never is, and I never learn. Now we have a fence and three gates that look rather like we are trying to hide some military installation. AND the woman mixed up another pot yesterday incorrectly, so we have mostly the military installation and a bit of a gentler fence, say part of a holiday camp.
Actually I looked at it all this morning again: if you squint a bit and the light's not too strong it looks rather classy - sort of posh Chelsea front door colour. Perhaps it's a state of mind thing anyway. Actually, someone once told me, and I can't think that this could be wildly inaccurate, that everyone sees colour differently, and that quite a lot of men are colour blind, especially when viewing red and green.
Hmmm. could test Mark here. 'Hey what do you think of this section of the red fence then?' Mark is mainly pleased that it no longer looks like it hasn't been painted for forty five years, which was probably the case, and is possibly indifferent that it is green, red or Barbi pink.
Dogs are supposed to see in black and white, so they are probably seeing it as a dark grey, a little less depressing than the slightly darker grey than it was before, and the boy person wouldn't notice if there was a fence or not.
Anyway, my back's given up at the moment so it remains two dark-olive green gates, one light aqua as I used an unidentified pot in the shed as undercoat, half a dark bottle-green gate and a section of green-blue plank which is so rotten that it needs replacing.
Optimism yes. Being a person who generally is optimistic. . . I always think tedious DIY projects such as this will take a few hours, perhaps a day at most. I fail to take into account preparation, even if it does involve a quick wipe of loose paint with a rag, weather, protesting body parts, and French shop opening hours.
Perhaps the end is in sight today, then I have to move onto the front room, currently being insulated against winter. A nice deep orange wall colour? Tester pot . . . naaah.