There is something fundamentally annoying about painting and decorating. You can’t rush it but I so want to get it over with. It’s a job I have always rather hated, and one that Nick would cajole me into. It was a job we’d always do together.
Paint is also really bloody expensive. So, I am in Brewers, the nearby paint shop, asking for the colours that Betsy has asked for in her room. It’s a paint called ‘Theatre Red’. It’s red alright. It was a decision made in an instant yet she’ll have to live with it for the next 5 years. I hope she really likes it after all. The guy in the shop tells me that it happens all the time…Dad’s come in and ask for the most ridiculous colours to keep their children happy, to allow their ‘creative freedom to express themselves through the medium of bedroom wall colour’. I just had to grin and bear it knowing I was one of said Fuckwit Dads. I got the feeling all the sales team in Brewers were about to explode into laughter the moment I left the shop.
It’s a year and a few days since she became ill. It is day 370 of this story.
Humphrey the puppy is a good distraction. Several people have asked me how come we called him Humphrey. Well it was a name that Nicky suggested, written down in the last few days of her life. We can’t wait to take him walking in the park. He’ll be good and ready for the tree planting. I hope he doesn’t wee anywhere inappropriate. Awkward.