Colours and treasure

One of the things we have to tell the architect in order for him to submit planning is which colour we want to paint the woodwork. We were sent to the Mairie to get a chart of the colours available. Some kerfuffle caused by there not being any in the drawer and they needed to be printed out. Voila - er it's in black and white. Much hilarity and then we were given the proper chart.

 

We then wandered around the town trying to match up houses to the chart. No chance. Then went to the local DIY shop to try and see the colours on the tin. They don't stock any paint that has even a vaguely similar number.

 

Plan B was to go to the local DIY shed and see if they had any watercolour or artist paint with numbers on. While we were there we chatted to the Dulux paint mixer lady and she was very helpful and left us with her folder of colours all dutifully numbered.

 

We came up with two to try on a piece of wood (thank you Sue for giving us an offcut because Him Outdoors has not only left all his tools in England but has no useful hoard of wood....................yet.) These tester pots were €17 a tin but as the lady helpfully said that if we liked one at least we'd have half a litre already.

So here is Him Outdoors painting the donated plank with my pastry brush!

 

 

 

I think we'll go for the one on the right, or at least tell them we will. Him Outdoors said that he didn't mind which but he thought he probably preferred the grey one on the left........................................

 

What intrigues me is how someone whose colour sense is, to me, completely weird, can get so excited about the colours.

 

Treasure

 

Whilst he was painting I sat in the sun and rubbed linseed oil into some of the treasures we rescued from the bonfire heap at the new house. Him Outdoors was waxing lyrical about cricket bats and childhood (during which conversation I discovered that his father used to call him Stinky - something new after 40 years, always a good thing). I found a hammer that I'm sure has cracked generations of walnuts, a tiny fold up ruler, a beautifully turned needle holder with hole making device inside, some tongs for who knows what, a valve for a vinegar/oil jar and some pens and pencil box that go with some beautifully written school  exercise books from the 20s and the 50s.

 

And they were all in the leftover bonfire. What other treasures have they just burnt or taken to the dump. Ho hum, we tried to make it clear that we would love anything but it is all so unimportant in their eyes. Who could possibly want such things. I have requested that they leave a chest of old books and all the jamjars and they seem to be still there. Along with a rusty saucepan full of live cartridges.