Smearing my Way

Smearing my Way (c)

By

Michael Casey

Well we are a week away from Christmas 2019, and I am wearing 4 layers to keep warm topped off with a red jumper, and red trousers. With my silver hair, the local kids think it’s Santa, and as neighbours pass by I say I have just a week to grow a beard. So I found some old black paint in the house, I had seen it before but I didn’t have a paint brush, then I found a small paint brush. So I thought I ‘d attack the front gate, it’d been annoying me for a year, it’s metal with a bit of rust showing through. Luckily we get loads of junk mail, which is perfect to protect the ground from paint spills as I attacked the front gate.

I only have so much energy, physical energy what with random pain attacks and so on, or if you like I’m a doddery old git now. Though I should warn you my fists are fists of fury, just like Bruce Lee but faster. If you spend 40 years typing fast then your fingers and then fist is fast. So no mickey tacking, or I’ll slap the back of your legs with a wet lettuce again. Yes that’s what you are feeling down the back or your leg, either that or Totoro my Ninja cat has sprayed on you for cheeking her master.

If only Totoro drunk black paint, she could have spray painted the garden gate for me, funny how ideas come. Though she is so white and fluffy I’m sure she drinks Comfort fabric conditioner and not milk. And no don’t read this story aloud to your kids, or they may just try it out, and then the RSPCA will be at your door, your freshly spray painted or cat sprayed front door. I did for years write a story and then read it aloud for my girls, so that’s why they view my stories differently than you. I sprayed my stories into their minds, I hope it improved their story writing skills.

Back to the front gate, it took all of 10 mins to smear it the other day, and immediately I liked it more, first appearances matter, so now the front of the house was so much better, well in my opinion anyway. Apart from the trail of paint spattered newspapers floating around the front garden, but at least the spills were on the free newspapers, each one saying Labour won the argument, but they still lost, logical if you are a Politician.

Then it rained so I hoped the paint would stay stuck to the garden gate. It was wood paint, very shiny wood paint, on an iron gate, but you have to use what you have got, money or paint does not grow on trees after all. Though a few leaves blowing in the wind, did stick to my bottom, or rather the bottom of the garden gate. I did find a few answers there too, the crossword answers stuck to the bottom of the garden gate, just opposite the Political Winds of Change item.

This morning I looked at my achievement, a black garden gate, with no rust showing, but it did need another coat. So today I found more junk newspapers to cover the ground as I smeared away again at the garden gate. Then I stepped back to admire my smearing and decided I was pleased with it. I realised there was more than enough paint left to do a bit more smearing. So I may attack the front of the steps into the house, the rise part, not the actual step, if my terminology is correct. Ask a Step Dancer they might know, I’m just a step smearer, as one of our lodgers once called me 40 years ago.

I can remember my dad’s advice don’t load your brush too much, I have a photo of him painting my back door at the old house, maybe 30 years ago. Other memories of my dad painting at the family house 50 years ago also come flooding back. I can even remember him on the outside toilet roof painting the corrugated iron roof to keep the rust away. Local kids calling out his name, Mr Casey cos they didn’t believe me when I said it was my dad. Dad used to have a Bobby Charlton front wrap around lock of hair too.

So in the morning I’ll look at my garden gate again and then decide in the light of day if I should smear the gate for a 3^rd time or smear the steps. I’m dangerous if I find left overs, if it’s food I’ll eat it, and if it’s paint or string I’ll find a use for it. Yes I’m a mini hoarder, no I’m not a Whore, hoarder, sometimes I think some of my readers have paint in their ears not just pencils and earwax. Anyway I have to fill my belly now, so I’ll finish now, but do save and recycle those Christmas wrappers. We have to buy some Lindt chocolate, not just because it’s nice but we can use the golden bells on it to put on Totoro’s collar, a kind of handicap system for Ninja cats, jingle jingle Totoro.