Yeah well, our flat in Prague hadn’t been painted in 16 years and was looking a bit worse for wear—nothing serious, but a little patchy and so I found myself at the top of a stepladder on Christmas Eve.
For Voltaire, it was cultivating the garden; for you, the painting of the bedroom. Nice reflections on the turning of yet another year, Jim. Careful on that ladder.
For Voltaire, it was cultivating the garden; for you, the painting of the bedroom. Nice reflections on the turning of yet another year, Jim. Careful on that ladder.