Three Colours Buttermilk

That's the colour of the walls.

About 4 days in and the paint job is going well. Actually, I am loving doing a bit of normal work for a change. Hopefully, the bigger house will allow more DIY opportunities in the future. I just love this house. It's so far away from the town, on a really cool road. Sort of reminds me of a drive like McCarrs Creek Road, North of Sydney. Ok, nothing like that but in that direction. Long, winding and not much traffic.

And then the silence.

Sitting on the back porch with just insect sounds and a murmur of someone far away. Happy times are spent in a trance on that back porch, before I pull myself up to do another gruelling stretch on the chain gang. Slowly, the painting is coming on. I had to apply a waterproof coat to the bottom of the walls. I don't think Thais have a damp proof membrane preventing water in the soil to travel up the building. Hence, all houses in Thailand have walls stained and peeling at the bottom. Anyway, a couple more days the the place will be a bit more livable.

I must state that last night I watched Three Colours Blue after initially being in love with the name and the poster, I tragically never saw it all those years ago, although strangely I used to discuss it with Sharon in Aus and various art house friends at the time. I did however see the other two, which, by all accounts were not up to "Blue". So, on this wonderful new site I have found, it caught my eye.

...how I wished I had seen it all those years ago. I loved it, of course, yet, I am so far removed from that time and place that I am sure it did not have the same impact if I were 21.

It's funny how our lives turn out, eh? Here we are, in the over 40's bracket (some people despise me for categorizing), and looking back at the major part of our lives. In a life where the right path is so hard to identify, you make the best choices you can. How did I act? As if in a fancy! Actually, one thing I have noted, is how things I have learned long in the past suddenly come into prominence again, like this painting job I am doing. Straight back to gardening for my mum's friends in 1985 preparing to go to Alton 6th form college, and the legendary meeting of the master mystic Rowland The Browning Version. Yes, as we cut hedges that Summer we struck deals, deals with the Devil Master himself. We even had our own religious Ouija come New Christian Fellowship encounter, which I believed climaxed when refusing to speak in tongues when instructed by the bearded dude, I think we named him Chris Beard. I remember a group of worshippers praying to help Rowland "with his problem" and us dreaming of dressing up as devils and dancing outside the window of the local estate gymnasium as they performed their religious ceremonies inside.

...Happy days.

Children and the birth of Grace is a wonderful blessing when one is starting to feel the weight of life and, I am sure, that grandchildren provide another.