Tomorrow Belongs To Spud

As I type this, Spud is appearing in a student production of Cabaret, as Cliff Bradshaw (the love interest – they do know he was my baby just two months ago, hey?).

The trailer above is from that production, but features only the Emcee (they do know that Spud is in it as well, hey?).  

The video below is from another production, and is not Spud.  I include it to show you the song he’ll be singing:

But I prefer this version:

What is dog logic?

For the dog lovers among you.

AnswerIt

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My Eyes! My Eyes!

I think I’ve kept you waiting long enough, but be warned: my new room is not for the faint of heart.  You see, I have this problem of never letting anything go to waste on account of having little disposable income.

The Hub bought a job lot of matt paint – something like 30 litres for £15, two colours: fuchsia and honeysuckle.  I decided the fuchsia was too dark and opted for the honeysuckle.

I needed gloss for the woodwork and I needed a fair bit because I had five pieces of furniture, none of which matched.  Aldi had paint on sale, but not much choice.  I thought I could mix white and bright yellow and make pastel yellow.  There’s a reason I’m not paid to think.

I put on my painting pyjamas, prepped the room, and mixed those suckers.  Did you know that white gloss and bright yellow gloss mixed together make bright yellow gloss?  Me neither; but they do.

The Hub was ill in bed; I was pyjama-ed up, spent up and raring to go, so I went.  I figured that if I didn’t like it, it could act as an undercoat for the time when I could afford to buy pastel yellow gloss. But you know what?  I like it.   Actually, I love it.  It’s, um, bright, but so cheerful.

If you come to stay, you’ll be using this room so you’d better learn to love it, too. But bring a sleeping mask.

I did have one little problem.  After emptying a tray of four tubs of honeysuckle, I noticed a few white patches where I’d missed spots.  I pulled a tub from the next tray in the shed and daubed over the patches.  It was only once it dried that I realised that the contents of tub no. 5 were a slightly different colour – noticeable, but only if the sunlight comes in at a certain angle.

I was bored with painting by this time so, instead of re-doing the whole room, I placed pictures and furniture in strategic positions and voilà!  One room painted one colour.  Honest.

You’ll see a South African table cloth in this next photo, used as a picture.  That’s where the biggest number five daub is.  I think the blue breaks up the blinding luminosity rather well (and I already had it in).

The room cost no more than £20 to re-do, if I include the curtains (charity shop: £1.75), lamp shade (charity shop: £1.99) and cushions (car boot sale: 40p).  

What do you expect of a woman who once papered a bedroom with stickyback plastic?  Class?  You haven’t been here long, have you?

The carpet is fourteen years old and has been through two teenage boys so I need a rug until I can replace it.  Anyone got an old rug covering their compost heap?  You know I’ll give it a good home.  But it needs to be a tasteful colour, like orange.  I have my standards.