Friday 17 January 2020

DIY Sunday has set the wheels in motion for home transformation

The myriad challenges of good gardening are about to be brought home to me
The myriad challenges of good gardening are about to be brought home to me

David Looby

Summer has arrived with a bang which means I've been forced to confront the jungle that is the garden and the peeling paint of my house.

A procrastinator at the best of times, it has taken the neighbour's painting their house (last autumn!) for me to set about making home improvements of my own. The Little Fella and the Whirlwind Wonder have been consulted on paint colours and if they had their way the house would be some artistic collision of hot pink and purple or blue, or red, depending on their mood!

The challenges were great indeed.

I got the ball rolling at the weekend by having the house painted. That, in itself, was one of the biggest things I've had to organise in years. Choosing colours from booklets containing fifty plus shades of grey, from Wild Atlantic to Goosewing, had me in a flap. Contrasting and complimentary trim colours had to be mulled over, leaving me stooped over my desk like The Thinking Man several evenings. A painter was found and the house was done by the time I returned from a long cycle down to the sea. The compliments have been flying in the estate and from the children ever since so emboldened by one good decision, I've set about an operation transformation for the garden and the inside of the house.

Usually my weekends are spent in flight mode. Having worked all week, I like to get out and about at the weekend: a gig here, a play there, but usually a long cycle and a pint or two in the local tavern.

Having inherited a Sunday drive mentality from my father, I'm usually behind the wheel on Sunday morning with the children, off down the coast or for a hike in the woods. I resisted the temptation last weekend, having had a busy week with a lot of driving; something I'm fortunately not used to. As an aside I ended up in Dundrum on Thursday and the talk at the parking pay station was of botox. One young woman said to another: 'I'd love to know where she got her botox. I'm going to go there.'

Mad stuff Ted, like the traffic in the capital. Anyhow, I loved my Sunday at home, having repeatedly shaken off the temptation to go for a spin and listen to my beloved Liverpool come runner up again en route.

Instead I dug out the old gardening gloves from the shed, plastered on the factor fifty and let the children roam wild and free out front while I started weeding and chopping, pulling and cutting my way into a state of sun baked bliss.

The enormity of the task was intimidating. Armed with zero knowledge about gardening I relied on a friend's advice to get started, using loppers to trim back a particularly virulent strain of ivy. The decking was brushed and treated and the colourful plants and flowers watered. The day was a triumph and has me thinking of other little improvements I can make, while saving on the diesel!

Spare a thought for the county registrar. In England the responsibility the role of the county registrar was highlighted when one of them called out the wrong name at a count. A high court challenge is possibly needed to reverse it and solve the electoral dysfunction. Oops!

Wexford People

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