We are currently in the exciting process of doing up our new house. Well, my husband and various labourers are. I am stuck babysitting. So, there are advantages to having children after all! However, the stresses of making sure everything looks just right and is done at the right time, is getting to me. Hence why I was lying awake earlier this week worrying about whether we were treating some beams correctly. As if it really matters. Clearly, the domestic (controlling) goddess syndrome strikes again. How can my life be perfect without a perfect house? And God help the child who dares to put their greasy fingers on our (by then) newly painted walls. We opted for the colour "soft stone" in the end. Simply because it was the least poo-like of the many browns we tested. The poo browns were definite no-nos - who would want their
bathroom to resemble a toddler's first excited foray into the world of
poo painting?
One of the poo browns, rather mystifyingly, was called "baking day". Rather than evoking soothing memories of happy children and perfect cakes, it reminds me of the reality, round ours: A shouting, stressed-out mum begging her children to stop arguing over whose turn it is to stir the dough next, while constantly wiping clean their newly-licked fingers and telling them that no, they can't lick the bowl yet, because it is in fact still full of dough.
God knows what happy associations the manufacturers of "elephant breath", "mole's breath" or "mouse's back" were hoping to invoke? I haven't tried, but since even human beings can have donkey bottom breath in the morning, I am pretty sure elephants must have horrendously awful breath, even at a distance. What about moles? Can you imagine moving in close enough to kiss one - its pointy little teeth at the ready, blind eyes blinking at you? As for "mouse's back" - if I ever spot one of those in the kitchen, I am more likely to whack it with a stick than paint it on the wall.
I guess the manufacturers name the paints, hoping to evoke warm and aspirational feelings in the buyer. How much more comforting though, if they gave them more familiar names. Mine would be: "Vomit on t-shirt" (a vibrant yellow perhaps); "mould round sink" (greeny black) and "crusty old tissue" (a pleasing creamy colour). What would yours be?
One of the poo browns, rather mystifyingly, was called "baking day". Rather than evoking soothing memories of happy children and perfect cakes, it reminds me of the reality, round ours: A shouting, stressed-out mum begging her children to stop arguing over whose turn it is to stir the dough next, while constantly wiping clean their newly-licked fingers and telling them that no, they can't lick the bowl yet, because it is in fact still full of dough.
God knows what happy associations the manufacturers of "elephant breath", "mole's breath" or "mouse's back" were hoping to invoke? I haven't tried, but since even human beings can have donkey bottom breath in the morning, I am pretty sure elephants must have horrendously awful breath, even at a distance. What about moles? Can you imagine moving in close enough to kiss one - its pointy little teeth at the ready, blind eyes blinking at you? As for "mouse's back" - if I ever spot one of those in the kitchen, I am more likely to whack it with a stick than paint it on the wall.
I guess the manufacturers name the paints, hoping to evoke warm and aspirational feelings in the buyer. How much more comforting though, if they gave them more familiar names. Mine would be: "Vomit on t-shirt" (a vibrant yellow perhaps); "mould round sink" (greeny black) and "crusty old tissue" (a pleasing creamy colour). What would yours be?
Perhaps they've employed someone akin to the man with the sausage t-shirt instead of a poet?!
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