Our Mediterranean House is Born.

What a day of awe and wonder. What a fantastic outcome. A dream come true. Our house is painted. Naturally, as we are quiet retiring types, our house reflects us. So we have created an absolute riot of colour. We will be living in a work of art.

Michael steeled himself for an early start. He was vertical, coffeed, fed and not happy by nine o'clock. Gary, trusty second in command, arrived to take his Grumpiness in hand. Gary, whose trade is an industrial painter, has an array of gizmos designed to make painting large surfaces as quick and painless as possible.

Needless to say, the boring preparation had to be accomplished first. Gap filler was applied, duct tape was added to strategic spots and windows were covered. Scaffolding was arranged in the appropriate places. Then the airless spray gun began its magic.

By three o'clock, we had a fully painted house (except for one smallish area of Carona, as we ran out of paint). A busy day in the East End Gallery prevented me from checking on the progress as often as I would have liked. When I stepped out the back door of the workshop in the glorious mid-afternoon, I was blasted by a wall of brilliant colour. Forget about the Wall of Sound. We have a house that sings to the world.

Michael was absolutely spent. Thus, his ill humour returned, but I understood he was tired and sore. I just laughed at him after a minor spat. He was not amused. In spite of this slight inconvenience, we proceeded to have a marvellous meal at the Red Vault with John, Jacqueline, Greg and the divine Jan.

On returning home, I surrendered my bedroom water bottle to Michael and gave him a tablet. He was out like a light. And he slept well. Even better, This morning, he has reverted to his usual placid amiable self. However, he will be eating humble pie to Vanessa when she surfaces. And ask very nicely for some grooming as he is currently resembling the Wild Man from Borneo.

This post needs to come to a close. The East End Gallery is beckoning me. We have a fantastic day planned. Open until nine o'clock tonight and with a Sundowner starting at four o'clock, we can guarantee wonderful art, genial company and cheap and cheerful vino.

In the meantime, I need to clarify the colours of our new home. Station House is not an Eagles house. She is the epitome of a Mediterranean house with inspiration provided by the amazing works of Vincent Van Gogh. The Colour Police may tutt-tutt about our choices of "Mystification" and "Carona". That is their prerogative.

To quote the inimitable Billy Connolly, Station House does not and will not have a "beige" bone in her body.

So, join us today in the East End Gallery, take a peek at our house and relax with drinks and nibbles.
Or join us anytime over Easter. We look forward to meeting all our guests.