And After a Quick Spray…

There are times when dejuvu just doesn’t cut it. If it did it would have prevented the latest adventure when a small project turned into bleeding nightmare. It’s happened before, many times. Why the memory bank failed to flag up a warning in time needs research.

The splash back behind the kitchen hob had been touched up a few years back. The easy way. Grab tin of what they call tile paint whack it onto the tiles and hey presto instant update, almost. Regretfully the subsequent use of hob cleaners, aerosol for the use of, entices a liberal application over any disaster area. This cleans off the clart, grease and bacteria in a trice. It does what it says on the tin. OK the small print T’and C’s says treat in an inconspicuous area first. Who has the time to do that? And if you are the culprit behind mild cooking over exuberance you need to destroy the evidence pronto. 

The tile paint versus death to grease cleaner was an easy away win to the cleaner. I watched the damn paint blister like the whimp it was. Fear not, with five minutes to spare I can quickly scrape the affected area and repaint. The strategy appeared stuffed fun of logic. A quick rub down with sand paper, and the flaw in the plan started to emerge. 

Despite the cleaning from death of grease there was still a residue of the nasty. This clogged the sandpaper. Plan B was needed. Out came the steam cleaner, this beauty has the power to run the Flying Scott at 20 mph. And this was where the tile paint versus steam was an away win to the steam. The damn paint stared to peel off big time way beyond the intended small patches. In matter of two hours the small touch up project has developed into a mass exodus of tile paint taking the project back to its original form.

The question proffered from the background inspection; “Just what the hell are you doing, there is paint scrapping all over the damn floor” ( rough translation ). The cleanup took forever. The paint under the steam blast, I love that machine, had let go of the wall tiles, floated down in tiny pieces, cooled and regained it adhesive properties then glued itself to the worktop and floor. Will this bloody exercise never finish. We flash froward another couple of hours. The worktop is spotless, the floor gleaming, the wall tiles look good as new although of a dated design, which may come back into fashion, we just need to wait. There is a moral. Read the T’s and C’s on the tin. But a silver lining. I have been banned from using the hob to prevent a repeat incident. This is a result albeit in a excruciating scenario and takes some commitment; best avoided. Which means reading the cooking instructions properly. Will this never end!

Alistair Owens

The meandering thoughts of someone with too much time on his hands. Tending to see the obscure and irrelevant in most events I have been forced to record this by family members as a means of diverting attention away from them. But I see their plan.

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