I entered my usual new year 'we need to decorate' mode this week.

This always starts as soon as we have taken the Christmas decorations down. Everywhere looks so plain and dismal and the weather usually matches it.

I looked round our decidedly scruffy kitchen and started making plans.

I could tell him indoors knew what I was thinking because he tried to sidle out of the door to hide in the shed but he was too late.

"This kitchen needs painting," I said, "right now, this week, please." I tend to be a bit impulsive like that you see.

He knew he would have to do it because he hates me painting because I am of the 'one coat covers everything and you can always wipe off the excess' school of painting.

He likes to sand things down and prepare surfaces, whereas I cannot see the point in dusting if you can cover it with a nice thick layer of paint.

Consequently, I get to go to buy the paint and clean the brushes and make tea and he does the actual hard work while I direct.

First we had to agree on the colour. The kitchen has been a deep mediterranean blue for a number of years.

"Let's do it blue again," said daughter, "I like it."

"No, I want something more sophisticated," I replied, "a pale beigey grey."

"I don't care," said him indoors, "just make sure you get the right colour because I'm not redoing it."

I toddled off to the paint shop and spent about an hour deliberating between the different shades of pale beigey grey. I hadn't realised how fashionable it is at the moment.

Of course none were called pale beigey grey, they all had names such as 'stone' and 'concrete' and 'winter morning sky'.

I eventually chose one and bought him indoors some paintbrushes to cheer him up.

Being much taller than everyone else he doesn't need step ladders so he had the first coat on the walls later that day.

It looked perfect wet but as it dried I felt a sinking feeling. It was drying much darker than I expected, much, much, much darker.

"It's a bit dark isn't it?" he said, "still, as long as you like it, I don't care."

It continued to dry, getting darker and darker by the minute.

Daughter came home from shopping. "Yuck," she said, "that's disgusting."

I had to agree, the final result looked as if someone had tripped while carrying a large mug of hot chocolate.

It also had a tendency to look slightly purple in electric light at night.

I gave it 24 hours and then phoned him indoors from work.

"Would you mind . . . ," I started.

"Yes, but I'll do it but make sure you choose the right colour this time because I won't be doing it again," he growled.

I chose a nice safe vanilla ice cream shade. It only needed three coats to cover the brown and the kitchen looks lovely and fresh for the spring. Now, where needs painting next?