Bull twang.

I think I was in grade five when harp lessons first appeared on the extra curricula activities list at St Catherines School. A glamorous pursuit inspiring images of  serene, long-haired ladies with heads tilted, enchanting audiences of distinguished admirers.  Not to mention angels.  I thought about bringing a little bit of that into my own realm:  growing my hair, hanging around in drawing rooms, wearing long frocks and corsets or halos, you know.  I even ventured a plink or two on the school instrument with the colour coded strings.  


I don't know what ultimately put me off.  It might've been the size of the thing, and how distinctly encumbering it would be. (I had an unhappy history with the cello the year before).  


Anyway, I ultimately took up the far more compact and sensible flute, and resolved that I would never harp.  That said, far be it from me to do so now.  I'll just let these images say it all.

My inspired feature doors are a disaster.
The paint has been blamed.  I don't think so.

Ah yes, and the paint smothered itself all over the fittings too.
I know its ugly, but this doorknob hasn't actually been put back on properly either.

The orange door, also streaky.

Drips I could've done myself.
Didn't need to pay a painting hack to do it for me.

An example of the finish around the light switches.

The blue painter's tape wasn't enough of a beacon to remind the painters
that this bit of wall needs more than a two minute lick by Milo.

The freshly painted shelves for the bookcase.
Stacked up before they were dry and the paint peeling off anyway.
Since it was the wrong paint, I guess it's doing me a favour.

And not to be left out, the fixed shelf on the bookcase erupted
with a blemish BANG! in the middle.

No need to paint along the edge of the steps, I mean
you'd only notice it IF YOU LOOKED.

Avert your gaze.  An allegedly completed brick wall.

This is the panel as you go up the stairs.
Even in low light, the strip of virgin plaster is visible.

Are you sure you didn't ask for a pinstrip wall, Ma?

Shabby chic, or just shabby?

Mental note: ladder applied with force to newly painted wall
does not result in happy client.

If he tries to tell me again that his brush wouldn't fit into the gaps,
I'm going to demonstrate just where a brush can fit.

Why would a person want the shelf painted?
When in doubt, claim to finish, walk out and hope no-one notices.

Blurring the lines between plaster and timber.

Dazzled by my own image, I didn't notice the shoddy cutting
around the giant mirror.
Oh, yes i did.

 Note: I have been restrained including only 18 examples.