I’d love to find the person who put the doors in our house.
For a number of reasons – like why the top of some of them are at jaunty angles, or have a strip stuck on to try and rectify the jaunty angles. Or why some of them had wood nailed over the top of the actual doors as if the doors themselves were too racy to be seen.
Or, with the last one that we’re dealing with, why the outside edge of the door is fine and dandy, but the top and bottom panels (and associated dividing uprights) have a horrible varnish underneath the paint which is an absolute tit to get off, and fills the house with smoke.
Because it is, and it does.
I was on an absolute roll today, stripping our bedroom door back to the bare wood so we could sand it and paint it and get it back on before Christmas because it’s really exciting if you work to a deadline.
And yet here I am faced with sticky varnish Armageddon. I stripped an entire side of the door in the time it’s taken me to get three of the panels of the other side done. And I probably breathed in a lot less fumes.
But that’s been a running theme with this house. Any paintwork you strip can have one of two outcomes. It will either come off really easily and be a doddle and everything will be fine. Or they’ll be a varnish underneath which is sticky and horrible and refuses to leave the end of your scraper.
The stuff on the door isn’t quite that bad, but it doesn’t shift particularly cleanly, leaving behind some sort of blue undercoat which comes off if I go over the door again. But then I’m effectively stripping it twice and the first time’s not exactly a bundle of laughs. And if you don’t remove the blue then everything is as rough as a badger’s arsehole.
Which is not want you want because you’re just making more work for yourself in the sanding process.
There’s a lot to be said for speaking up and being a lot more organised about the doors when your father was alive and had offered to hang new ones for us. A lot. When people say things about missed opportunities, all I think about is me stripping the paint, and varnish, off the various doors in the house and cursing the day we didn’t take my dad up on it all because we weren’t quite ready.
Still, sense of accomplishment, isn’t it? When it’s all done.
Well, yeah. But equally, bollocks to that.
I still have some to do. The house still smells of it, and I had all the windows open this afternoon and it was blowing a gale.
Damn you, missed opportunity.