Lipstick, powder and paint
...but not in that order.
The powder and paint will be next weekend at Sparkle, which I'm starting to panic that I've made absolutely no preparations for.
Meh, I'm at my best when under pressure, I'll plan it all on Thursday.
This weekend was all about paint. Big tubs of paint from the local DIY emporium, rock-hard paint on ancient woodwork, globs of paint oozing satisfyingly into trays, and tiny flecks of paint in my hair and all over my clothes.
Yep, we've been decorating. Deep joy.
We're re-decorating Jane's old place with the (seemingly ever-distant) aim of finally selling it. While Jane concentrated on preparing the living room, I was given the job of stripping the paint from the aforementioned woodwork. Actually, a wooden arch that's over 200 years old, with paint that's been there so long and built up so many layers it had become virtually a structural part of the building. Yes, at one point I began to worry it was load-bearing paint, and if I took any more off the whole house would cave in.
The bottom layer of paint was having nothing to do with modern-day fancies like paint stripping chemicals, and was only slightly more susceptible to brute-force chipping and swearing. Eventually I gave up and decided just to paint over the whole bloody thing, which I suspect (judging by the patchy nature of the previous layers of paint) is the conclusion reached by several generations of previous decorators!
Sorry, dull post I know. Jane might make the same weekend sound a whole lot more interesting, there might even be pictures! And there's always next weekend's post-Sparkle evaluation to look forward to.
The powder and paint will be next weekend at Sparkle, which I'm starting to panic that I've made absolutely no preparations for.
Meh, I'm at my best when under pressure, I'll plan it all on Thursday.
This weekend was all about paint. Big tubs of paint from the local DIY emporium, rock-hard paint on ancient woodwork, globs of paint oozing satisfyingly into trays, and tiny flecks of paint in my hair and all over my clothes.
Yep, we've been decorating. Deep joy.
We're re-decorating Jane's old place with the (seemingly ever-distant) aim of finally selling it. While Jane concentrated on preparing the living room, I was given the job of stripping the paint from the aforementioned woodwork. Actually, a wooden arch that's over 200 years old, with paint that's been there so long and built up so many layers it had become virtually a structural part of the building. Yes, at one point I began to worry it was load-bearing paint, and if I took any more off the whole house would cave in.
The bottom layer of paint was having nothing to do with modern-day fancies like paint stripping chemicals, and was only slightly more susceptible to brute-force chipping and swearing. Eventually I gave up and decided just to paint over the whole bloody thing, which I suspect (judging by the patchy nature of the previous layers of paint) is the conclusion reached by several generations of previous decorators!
Sorry, dull post I know. Jane might make the same weekend sound a whole lot more interesting, there might even be pictures! And there's always next weekend's post-Sparkle evaluation to look forward to.
That bottom layer of paint might be "milk paint". Literally paint made from (usually goat) milk. It seeps into the wood, and is nigh on impossible to remove.
I usually leave it, explaining that it "ain't coming off" and can the client simply enjoy it? :-)
It worked sometimes.
I presume you wore a mask before stripping the paint? If it was painted before the early to mid 1980's, that paint could have a lot of lead in it. Especially the really bright white, which you won't be able to tell if it's covered in nicotine. And long gloves, and long sleeves? (Sorry to be a nag. Especially if you've finished it, already!)
Have at it! :-) (I'm still redoing our place... Just over a year after we started. Too many distractions like motorcycles. :-) And electrical and plumbing problems :-( )
Carolyn Ann
Hmph, you'll be telling us you were wearing dungarees next (goes to lie down in a darkened room at the very thought)
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