Smart as Paint
We’ve been painting the lodges outside lately, in between bookings. It’s going well (for me anyway as I’m not doing the painting). I’ve roped in two unsuspecting Ragged Trousered Philanthropists to help, but sometimes there are more; it depends on who else is around that can be bothered.
Jake being an arty soul, decided that before he swans off to Camp America for the bulk of the Summer, he would start painting the windows of each lodge a different colour – Skandi style (or Tobermory style depending on your age and affiliation). Imagine my surprise when I returned from somewhere important to discover Lodge number 1 was painted … lilac. Yes, lilac! “Is it too much?” asks Jake, which must have been a rhetorical question. I could hardly look at it without my sunglasses. Even with eyes tight shut, there was still a purplish aura. I went off to lie down in a dark room for a while, thinking it might be a bad dream. It wasn’t.
Next up … Green, normally my favourite colour. While the green was going on, the brown was also going on – on the cedar wood walls. I understand that painting a brown lodge brown must be a little dull, and the boys have done a sterling job coping with the brown-ness of it all. It seems that the thought of another colour around the windows and eves generates just enough excitement to motivate them on to the next lodge. We’re using Butinox woodstain on the cedar wood and Sadolin Superdec on the windows and eves. We get our paint from Bannerman Colour Studio, Perth,
I have explained to the boys that using their time while painting, to reflect on life in general, is a luxury that most working people do not have. So they are lucky. Often people have Eureka moments while carrying out some mundane rhythmical task. I do not consider the lilac lodge to be such a moment. That would come under the category ‘mistake’.
Earlier this week, we were invited to Lodge 2 (the green lodge) pour prendre un aperitif avec notre visiteurs de France. We were enjoying some refreshment and nodding and gesticulating to each other in lieu of actual understanding, when a cry went up (such a curious expression). But a cry did indeed go up. It was the boys who were raising the alarm because the goats had escaped. The cockerels and hens joined in the general mayhem, making a racket. Archie had cleared the fence in one bid for freedom. Jock followed swiftly after and poor Tim, who is too fat and too slow, could only watch in envy as Jock and Archie munched their way through his favourite shrub. Princess Iona came bursting into our petite soiree in her jimjams yelling, “les chevres, les chevres ils sont echappe” or something similar.
We were trying to give the impression to our French friends that we are a normal family. It was important to stay calm and to keep the Anglo Saxon words and gesticulations to a minimum. This was achieved with limited success. Meanwhile our friends were taking photos and generally enjoying the ensuing chaos – luckily. With teamwork and bribery we were able to lure the goats back to their enclosure and we went back to The Green Lodge for more wine, which strangely improved my French. It didn’t improve John’s French – John continued to speak Shetland, merely missing out words in an attempt to sound French. At some point we need to add another bar to the top of the fence…
Back to the lodges … actually the lilac is growing on me, metaphorically speaking. This is how the lodges are looking so far:
I took this about 6am today. will try to get a (much) better photo.
More later. At least I hope there’s more later; although there’s every chance that this is where it ends with the Ragged Trousered Philanthropists running out of steam and us running out of paint and the lodges becoming fully booked making painting impossible. Ah well! There’s always that case of wine that our very good friends from France brought while