Denis Kilcommons:Carried away with my fence spray

Jul 6 2009 by Denis Kilcommons

THERE I was, chuckling at the bottom of our garden.

The reason was because I had bought one of those paint sprayers you see advertised on television. You know, whole rows of gardens with fences being sprayed by jolly families to the tune of The Laughing Policeman.

My good humour did not burst forth quite so melodiously, but I was getting there. By heck, I thought, but this is the easy way to paint a fence. Like the company’s slogan, it does exactly what it says on the tin.

I have to admit that I was dubious at first. I mean, you can’t spray the top of the fence, unless you think your neighbour might want a speckled greenhouse. For that you have to use a brush and that gets you thinking.

Brush strokes work the paint in, but when you spray, the paint just lies there on the surface. Can’t be as good a job? Can it?

Yes it can. It covers speedily and beautifully, although I did get a bit carried away and now have two pot cats and an England football gnome all fetchingly shaded in cedar brown.

What a good choice, I thought. The paint is exactly the same as the rockery stones. Then I realised I’d painted them, too.

It was about this time I startled to chuckle. Not because of The Laughing Policeman, but because of a true story that happened at the time of the Grand National some years past which has now gone down in legend at my local watering hole.