Kitchen Painting and Social Distancing
I have 8th June highlighted in my calendar. I practically wore down one of my daughter’s crayons to a nub doing it. Bright pink.
It’s the day I’m allowed back to work. I can’t wait, really I can’t. For someone who is used to being out and about all day, being in lock down has been difficult. There’s only so many times you can repaint your own kitchen, after all. I’ve also watched everything on Netflix and, while I love my daughter to bits, if I have to attend another tea party with Mr Unicorn and his imaginary friend Captain Angel Dust, I swear I’ll go mad.
The government’s plans for 8th June include an easing of the rules that cover kitchen painting. The government’s website says, “Workers, like those who work on their own, as well as other workers who can keep a 2 metre distance from others can return to work. Social distancing requirements continue to apply.”
If they’d asked me, I couldn’t have written a better description of kitchen painting.
The very nature of my work means I keep my distance.
Better still, I’m a stickler for pristine, clean surfaces. I have to be. Otherwise I can’t get the finish I’m known for.
Here is how a typical kitchen painting job plays out:
Arrive on site, usually around 8:00 on the first day.
The client lets me in. Sometimes, they’ve gone to work already and I have made arrangements to let myself in. (In these instances, it’s super important to make sure I’ve got the right house.)
Lay down protective paper on the kitchen floor.
Take the doors off the cabinets and units.
Clean the kitchen cabinet and unit frames with Kalustepesu. (I don’t know how you pronounce it either. And I’m Welsh! I mean, there’s a village in Wales called Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.
Of course, we’re sensible enough to shorten that to a more manageable Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, which just trips off the tongue easy peasy, I think you’ll agree. But Kalustepesu? I tried pronouncing it once and had to take my tongue to A&E.
It’s made by Tikkurila for use with their paints. Don’t even bother asking them how to pronounce it. They’re a Finnish company and if you go to the website all they have to say is, “Käyttövalmis suihke sisäkalusteiden, -ovien ja listojen puhdistamiseen ennen maalausta tai lakkausta.” Disaster!)
I’ve gone off track. Where was I? Oh, yes:
Sand the frames.
Hoover the frames to clear them of any dust (I have a special vacuum cleaner for this—I’ll write about it one day.)
Apply the Otex primer.
Apply the first coat of paint.
IMPORTANT: While I’m working in the kitchen, nobody, but nobody is allowed in. I don’t care if your kitchen was built on the spot where the Second Coming is scheduled to happen—it’ll have to happen after I’ve been in. (And they’d better not chip the paintwork.)
Once I’ve finished the first day, I take the doors away with me to work on in my workshop. So during that time, I’m not around in your kitchen.
When I’ve painted the doors, I come back to refit them and complete the painting of the frames. The same strict no-access rules apply while I’m doing that too.
My time on site will vary depending on the size of your kitchen. I’ve painted kitchens so big they’d almost qualify for their own eircode. Sometimes, I’m around for weeks. Often, though, it’s only a few days. And all the while, I’m at a distance and ruthlessly clean.
As I write this, 8th June is three weeks away. I wish it were three hours away. I’ve just received a fresh invitation to another tea party in Mr Unicorn’s honour.
It’s going to be a long three weeks...