Getting a Pasting

So my sister and father now created several sound effects behind the well and truly slammed bedroom door. And it wasn’t the outlandish sound effects of a radio comedy (unfortunately). It was a painful reminder of consequences. It didn’t matter that my sister was right, but again, my father’s authority had been challenged. He never liked that. It was one reason we children often worried for each other. Though, if I may return to where this story started, with me sitting alone in my room awaiting the punishment my father was likely to bring, after I had injured my younger brother (accidentally. I will keep stressing that fact). I did not see much sign of the other members of the family staunchly standing beside me to be involved in the punishment. In fact I could liken their absence to that famous of descriptions; Rodents deserting a sinking ship. A smart move, if not appreciated.

It was after my father had returned to the lounge, following that brief telephone call and the door there, had closed (quietly). I waited tensely. Staring at the wall from where I had been told to sit. I believe the ancient pattern of that thin wallpaper in our shared room has been intensely seared into my brain, thus ensuring I will never live in a house with wallpaper ever again, and the thin, thick, striped pattern that made up its vertical length has also forever put me off buying some business shirts.

I later learnt how to hang such wallpaper from my father. We did it several times over the years, in various houses. The old true traditional way. The cleaning of the wall. Scraping and sanding down, then patching any holes in the walls. Washing down with sizing. The measuring and marking out. And then, the expensive part. The cutting of the lengths off the roll, and checking. The wetting, then pasting. Attempting to hang it straight. I say expensive, because there were several things that could go wrong (and usually did). One, we cut a length or two and when checking discovered that the paper had shifted and we were a fraction short or too long. Too long was okay but too short was never good. On some occasions we could get away with that by knowing furniture might hide the join (until the furniture was moved around in the house). Usually, it meant my fathers careful, fiscal calculations on how much wallpaper he had purchased, would be challenged. If not, altogether wrong. Requiring more wallpaper to be purchased. (Don’t forget. There was never a lot of spare money in our household, despite both my father and my mother working). Then corner clips could be made at the wrong angle. Or worse, when hanging we discovered the paper had got turned around and was now upside down. It would then have to be peeled off while still wet, without creasing or tearing it. Straightened, turned around and hung back correctly.

(continued tomorrow)