The Demographic Shift - 96
"Gordon what on earth were you thinking?"
I scratched my head. Really I can't tell you. I have no idea where it came from. I kind of like it, but it looks like I might be on my own.
"You have painted every other room in the house, bar none, white, yet you've gone all rouge and boudoir like in your bedroom? What on earth were you thinking?"
It's true, kind of. I have indeed painted every other room in the house white other than my bedroom, which is now, according to Dulux –rooster red.
"Do you know any French whores? I think they would be pretty happy here."
My sister is such a wise arse. But I can kind of see her point and I'm not sure what came over me. I'm not really all that big on interior design. I like bright colours and wooden floors, you know, mostly. I need professional help, but some how a reporter's salary doesn't quite stretch to employing interior designers.
In my defence I should say that, while the walls are pretty dark red I didn't paint a rather thick white border that connects to the ceiling. So the red is separated from the ceiling by white and I think balanced by the wooden floors and the wooden blinds (beach). Surely all this wood must be good. Okay, so I'm stretching, what can I say.
"I think its kind of cosy," I told my sister.
"Yes its definitely cosy, if only you knew some hookers."
There was worse to come.
"Gordon its not just boudoir look, red is a disaster colour in the bedroom in terms of Feng Shui. It completely explains your lack of success with women."
Oh come on that can't possibly be true. Besides, complete lack of success is somewhat harsh.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course it is, it’s a big no no, you might as well get yourself a habit."
"I've got a habit, I still play PS2 games."
"No you fool – a habit, a monk's habit."
"Hey enough with the fool talk."
"Well, anyway, red in the bedroom is like sexual death."
"Sexual death? I'm not liking the sound of that at all. Death and sex a the same time, please."
"Well you'd better get painting. You seem to be sitting on the world's supply of white."
Please god, no more painting. I seem to have been at it for weeks, you know, stretched over the last two years. Besides when I paint I tend to get I everywhere even when I'm really really careful. The message seems to be that really I shouldn't paint.
I was telling Susan about the whole Feng Shui thing when she did a double take and was suddenly convinced that that bad Feng Shui in the bedroom had to be her problem also.
"It makes perfect sense," Susan said with the conviction of a person who really believes.
"Yes, I've suspected for ages that my whole Yoko Ono minimalism thing was the reason for my disastrous love life."
"But Suze, you don't believe in any of this Feng Shui stuff, you take the piss out of it as you do with most stuff."
"I know, but I think I'm at the stage in my life when I'm willing to clutch at straws. I might take up religion. I feel that deep down I could be a religious person."
"What about the whole not believing in a supreme being thing?"
"Mmm, maybe one of those less than monotheistic religions would better suit me."
"But Feng Shui?"
"It perfectly explains my situation."
"Suze you don't have a situation."
"Gord we have a situation. Yours is clearly down to your new desire for boudoir living and mine is done to Yoko Ono. It makes perfect sense. Look what happened to the Beatles!"
I'm sure there is some logic there, but like most things in life it is best not to examine it too closely. I'll get my brush.