Starting Out

Back in February 2019 I somehow convinced myself that painting our house would be a fun, relaxing four‑week hobby. The moment the scaffolding went up, I realised I’d accidentally signed up for a full‑time circus act. There I was, perched in the sky like a budget window‑washer, grinning like I knew what I was doing. But spirits were high, the weather was good, and I was ready to give those walls the glow‑up they deserved.

The “don’t look down, don’t look up”

Sanding from the very top of the scaffolding was a whole experience in itself — the golden rule was simple: don’t look down. I’d chatted to a paint guy in Bunnings who used to clean windows on Wellington skyscrapers, and he told me the real danger wasn’t the ground at all. “Never look at the clouds,” he said, “that’s when you get dizzy.” I laughed at the time, but up there with the sander buzzing in my hands, I realised he was absolutely right.

Weather good not be better

The weather couldn’t have been better. Blue sky, blazing sun, and not a single cloud to spoil the view. I was geared up like a proper tradie, mask and all, and my legs were quietly turning a shade of golden brown. For a day spent sanding, it was surprisingly blissful.

Lunch on the "Ledge"

Every day I hauled my food box up the scaffolding with me. Nothing fancy — just good, honest sarnies, a packet of crisps, and a flask of tea that tasted better the higher up I sat. It was classic work‑lady fuel, the kind that keeps you cheerful even when you’re covered in dust and the sun’s beating down.

A Job Well Done

March arrived and with it the final brushstroke. My painting mission was complete, and the house looked better than it had in years. I genuinely enjoyed every day of the project, even the dusty ones. Would I sign up for another round? Maybe not — thankfully the paint promises to stick around for a good fifteen years

My Uniform

These are the shorts and top that survived the whole painting adventure, now tucked safely inside a frame like a tiny museum exhibit. They remind me of every dusty, sunny, determined day up on that scaffolding. Dad would’ve loved seeing me tackle the job myself, and Mum would’ve said, “Good on you, girl.” They both taught me well, and this little frame is my way of honouring that.