Sticky

Spent the day with G, U and her parents, painting the walls of their new office. This wasn't intended to happen, they had thought when viewing the space full of furniture that it was good enough to leave "as is;" but seeing it empty last night when they picked up the keys, they realized that it was just too dirty to be comfortable in.

We took down a supernumary cable tray and filled the resulting holes, taped the floor and ceiling edges all around (we didn't paint the ceiling), then broke for coffee. G spent the day painting the short "signature wall" by the entrance bright red (two coats) while I did all the rolling on every other wall and U's father painted the wall edges at floor and cable tray. G was still unsatisfied with his red wall, so I rollered it again and it turned out perfect: seamless and even, bright saturated red. Partly the effect of the third coat, but also the justly famous Udge Rolling Technique. At the risk of seeming immodest, I have to state that I am one of the world's best painters (wall and ceiling, not canvas). Sorry, the technique is a family secret that I dare not divulge.

U's parents are of German stock but grew up in Rumania (fairly common, actually: the Austro-Hungarian Empire spread Germans throughout Eastern Europe, many of whom returned or were expelled to Germany after the war). At one point, U's mother said to her husband, "Look at Udge go! He's working like a Greek." How odd: to the Rumanians, the Greeks were models of industry and skill, whereas to an Englishman raised on the Durrell brothers and their ilk, they are slow, lazy and slipshod.

In any case: I am now sticky with paint and pleasantly tired. I shall sleep well tonight (tempting fate).