It is a horrible material, a noxious substance, a thing with a mind of its own and a curse to all good men.
I am talking about Gloss Paint.
I have in my time had a go at most DIY disciplines.
A common factor has been that I have failed to excel in or even earn a merit badge for anything that I have done myself around the house, in the garden or even in others' homes and gardens. This has been no more reinforced by my infamous experiences with gloss paint.
There is an initial excitement and anticipation in the purchase of a tin of the stuff.
The aisle of gloss paints at the superstore is a bright and inviting place promising a riot of colour. A few moments browsing and taking in the evocative and sometimes romantic names of the shades and tones can lull you into a false sense of your own abilities. It is easy to imagine perfect application and smooth coverage and a sheen of finish to cause the light to dance and celebrate your workmanship. I then remember that I am only there to buy brilliant white and turn my back on the Postbox Red, British Racing Green, Mediterranean Blue, Sunburst Yellow and Tango Orange.
You would think that choosing a single primary colour would be easy but the available range of just pure brilliant white is astounding.
There is a strong temptation to make a decision on the reputation of a main brand but then quality comes at a price. I usually go for the mid range cost but with the credibility of a recognised name although I suspect that it all comes from a single factory production line anyway.
The packaging is alluring. A compact perfect cylinder with a pleasing weight and feel. I make a show of reading the details for application and coverage but only to appear knowledgeable to other confused men standing around mulling over the very same situation.
The information supplied can start that small knot of anxiety to tighten in the stomach in particular safety advice on odour, flammability, irritability and danger to the environment. There is nothing more sobering than the embossed image of a dead, dessicated fish to indicate the level of hazard to life and habitat from careless use.
A good tin of gloss can set you back a few pounds but pleasingly within a perceived budget. The problem is the need for complimentary purchases of paint brushes, masking tape, dust sheets and the even more perilous substance that is the dreaded white spirit.
Things are getting a bit serious now and the drive home equipped with everything needed is a matter for reflection and forward planning, a bit of a quandary in itself.
The legend on the tin emphasises the fact that the paint is only as good as the preparation of the surface to receive said paint. I hate that level of Corporate get-out clause. Of course they are right and perfectly justified to take up this stance.
Take a length of skirting board. In every house that I have owned, most of them old, the skirting is like a time capsule. When the property was newly built a time served craftsman will have spent many hours in the meticulous fitting, preparation and careful decorating process. The wood will have been of good seasoned stock. Knotting will have been sealed and the surface rubbed down to receive a coat of primer, undercoat and a few layers of top quality gloss.
In the succession of owners the attention to the process becomes weakened and diluted.
By the time it is my turn to have a go there may be a tangible thickening of the skirting profile from multiple paint applications. A few generations of slap-happy gloss painting create a streaky, paint run and uneven surface, so much so that much of the original moulded detail and relief is blurred.
A conscientious householder may attempt to remove the onion-like layers using a blow-torch or caustic stripper but such diligence and patience is a very rare quality in men.
I adopt the theory that if I apply as thick a coat as possible then everything will be ok.
Prizing open the tight fitting lid is the first major obstacle and many a screwdriver, kitchen knife and spoon handle has been ruined by its use as a lever. As though dazzled and seduced by that first glimpse of the paint the lid is discarded with no thought of the veneer of paint on its underside until a hand or knee rests in the gloopy mass shortly afterwards.
Careful planning is necessary on tackling a gloss paint project.
I like to work backwards and anti-clockwise through a room on all fours in the case of skirtings. In close proximity to a strong chemical odour this can be a cheery experience at first but soon developing into a headache-y stupor.
Gloss paint seems to be controllable between tin and brush but thereafter it takes on an entity of its own. There is that feeling of achievement on completing a wall-length of skirting board but on closer inspection this is shattered by an inevitable adhesion by lint, grit and household dust amongst thick paint runs, patchy coverage and numerous brush hairs shed from what was purchased on the promise of a non-hair loss character. .
Rather than wait for the manufacturers recommended interval between coats I work on the principle that if I quickly brush over the same again any flaws and faults will disappear.
Gradually hands and clothing become an extension of the paint filled brush. A brief wipe of a fevered brow further spreads the sticky substance.
It is soon everywhere. A cup of tea handed up by a well meaning and nervous and tentatively encouraging wife is soon marked with semi permanent fingerprints. Children have an affinity to test parental claims that wet paint is sticky and domestic pets just aren't bothered.
What was intended to be a one room operation soon takes on a much larger scale. Even when the door is closed and the job hesitantly signed off there remains a paint trail through the house to the kitchen sink for that thankless job of trying to clean and save that expensive and now balding brush for the next time.
Next time... I think it would be easier, cheaper and eminently safer to just replace the skirting or pay a professional to just get on with it.
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