I’m not that keen on decorating
I don’t have the inclination
Even though our rooms are degenerating
Cos I’m lacking in motivation
To do anything about it
Until my wife has a quiet word
To encourage me to commit
Resistance now being quite absurd
So out I traipse to the shed
Drag out old brushes and rollers
Find the old bed spread
That I use for furniture covers
Bedroom emptied onto the landing
Take one deep breath and begin
The miserable task of sanding
Paper so rough it hurts my skin
Once the dusty mess is made
A bucket full of sugar soap solution
Washing walls, cleaning skills displayed
Probably more like dirt re-distribution
Finally we’re ready for the paint job
Even opening the tin is a nightmare
Several attempts later, starting to sob
Tin lid finally free, was starting to despair.
So now armed with roller and paint
I attack the ceiling, walls and skirting
With renewed vigour no restraint
My increased enjoyment a little disconcerting
In no time at all the decorating job is done
Quite painless not too bad after all
I have got to admit I almost had fun
So much so I might have to do the hall.