Gorse Bush.

Gorse Bush. That’s the name of the paint colour I chose for our sitting-room.

Colourtrend, Historic Collection, Luxury Matt in Gorse Bush is the full title (in case you want to avoid it). When a tin of paint has a name that long you know for sure that it cost an eye-watering sum of money. Yup, beans for dinner all week in Sultanabunland.

As I drifted off to Nod last night, I had that sensation of falling in my sleep. In the dream that accompanied the jerk back to wakefulness, I was walking across the sitting-room when I tripped and spilled a whole tin of yellow paint onto the floor. 

I have, in fact, spent this week applying yellow paint to walls, skirting boards, door, architrave and shelves. Pretty much every surface of the sitting-room except the floor. 

I have that sinking feeling you get when you’ve chosen the wrong paint colour.

I’m not usually a big fan of yellow. I’ve failed to discover any shade that flatters Irish freckles so I never wear yellow. Will I appear pale and washed out every time I sit down in the front room? Could I use this to my advantage? Whenever I want to sit and read for half a day I could sit in there and claim illness…maybe?!

When I close my eyes I see yellow.

When I open my eyes I see yellow.

I claim not to like yellow flowers (with the exception of Spring bulbs) and yet, my garden is full of them.

I’m a very cautious, risk-averse person. When somebody says that I’m being brave I immediately start to worry. Brave? Oh No, no, I must be risking something, what am I risking? Quickly, back up there. Husband has repeatedly told me that writing this blog is a very brave thing to do. He is scaring the bejaysus out of me! I’d stop but I can’t. I’m addicted.

This yellow seems a bit brave (is that irony? I’m never sure anymore). 

Maybe I’m feeling a little bit brave. Cautiously brave.

No laughing at my gorgeous showercap halo. My hair has much in common with a Gorse Bush but I’m not quite brave enough to sport it as a hair colour.