Doors and Dogs

I have to go to town in the van as oldest has taken the bicycle. He
has no heart or consideration for his mother's new Fitness Regime. I
even got the swimming timetable from the leisure centre the other
day.

As I return with my galia melon I put the key in the front door and
notice yet again how shabby the paintwork is. I pause and have An
Idea.

I turn round and get back into the van.

I drive to the out of town shop that sells paint and pets. On the way I
consider phoning up about the english bull terrier I saw advertised on
the co-op ad board. 8 months old and "family crisis forces sale". I am
more interested in the family crisis than the dog really. Briefly I
wonder if the family crisis is one of chewed furniture and electrical
wiring. I once knew a labrador that chewed all the skirting boards off
a kitchen then moved onto the washing machine pipes.

Why am I thinking of getting another dog?

At the out of town paint and pet shop I collar the man who mixes the
colours specially. I explain to him about my front door and point to
the shade I want. The mixing man raises his eyebrows and begins to
explain that he can't mix outdoor paint. He takes me down the aisle of
outdoor paints. They are without exception dull shades.

I tell the man I will have the indoor paint and risk it. He gives me a
"don't say I didn't warn you" look. I try and win him over by saying I
want this shade in order to shock the neighbours a bit more. As if
having a 1975 VW camper parked in the street isnt enough.

He mixes the paint and we both look excitedly into the can as he takes
the lid off to show me.

It is an astonishing shade of pink.

We look at each other. He tells me it will dry a couple of shades
darker. I think I spot a tiny glimpse of admiration in his eye. I am
feeling reckless.

I go home and paint the door. Several neighbours faint.

While it dries I nip back to the co-op to see if the dog advert is
still on the ad board. It isn't. I wasn't meant to have that dog. Oh
well, at least I won't have to worry about the two missing fence panels
and next door's immaculate garden. Sadly I realise I will never know
what the family crisis was.

I boast to Liana about the door. She plans to bedeck it with a feather
boa so it will be both pink and fluffy.

I attach the swimming timetable to a fridge with a magnet. It partially
obscures a photo torn from the murky mail. The photo is of two firemen
looking at a large pile of smoking debris. Middle son has added speech
bubbles saying "Would you look at that!" and "I can see it Dave."

Sons come home. Oldest apologises for taking the bicycle. They look at
the door. They close the door and make me walk across the street with
them to absorb the full effect from a distance. It really is very very
pink indeed. The oldest one says "bad". I think they approve.