4: Creosote

Spring is finally here. Every morning I curse the fact that light creeps through my blinds and that I don't have curtains, before remembering that I'm meant to - as a supposed regular human being - be excited at the oncoming of spring. Little lambs gambolling around buttercup-flecked fields, adorable puppies frolicking in waterfalls, baby deer being harvested for their meat for the rich and uncaring. It's all good.

Yesterday I wore my sunglasses for the first time this year. Admittedly, quite a lot of that was to do with the fact that I'd only had a few hours sleep and my eyes resembled the hastily scratched crosses etched into cheap bullets in a war torn part of the world - but it was remotely pleasant to look like a rockstar in deepest Leicestershire. The part I enjoyed about the onset of brightness was wandering around Leicester city centre with my music on as loud as possible, staring at the tops of buildings and noticing things that it seems like I've never noticed before. Of course, I have noticed all of these things before - it's just that winter has a way of greying out the tops of buildings, shrouding them in a metaphoric fog as the rain, sleet and snow makes everyone keep their heads down and scurry from place to place like robotic mice.

It'll be Easter soon, an event which has something to do with Jesus being a chocoholic and the disciples being reincarnated as Creme Eggs. As I understand it, anyway. Which means the first Bank Holidays of the year and a chance for people to feel remotely motivated to get themselves along to a garden centre or a DIY place and start to spruce their place up.

I am not one of these people.

DIY around the home is a neccessity. If something breaks, fix it. I can understand that. Gardening is a waste of time - but that's another rant. DIY outside the home is the most pointless exercise in the existence of humanity. Allow me to explain.

If you go to Homebase on a bank holiday and buy a fence, chances are you won't need one. I'm willing to bet that your current fence didn't need replacing. If it did because there was some kind of hurricane in your part of Glamorgan (or wherever you are, I merely like the name "Glamorgan") then I'll allow that - but note what colour your new wooden fence is.

It's wood coloured.

I'm constantly perplexed by the need for people to paint wood in another wooden colour. And better yet, paint it with something that fades after a year so you need to repaint it. Creosote is godforsaken stuff that is clearly deliberately pointless and addictive. It fades, so you must buy more. It smells funny, polluting the air from March to June in every part of the UK (you'll note that creosote isn't anywhere near as popular in the USA, for example) but maybe there's something in the smell. It's probably all a part of a global conspiracy led by the Reptilian hordes. (This theory copyright David Icke, 2009).

Don't even get me started on fucking decking. That stuff is just quadrupling the sadolin / ronseal grasp on the global woodstain economy.

And that stuff is toxic, too. It's carcinogenic, causes breathing difficulties, is poisonous and caustic. It's not exactly in tune with the environmental yin and yang, the essence of spring and rebirth that it's meant to represent. I don't care how few coats it takes to slather your fence in the godforsaken stuff, or how rapidly it dries to a rich woody colour. All I know is that if your pour it into your eyes, it'll probably cause severe burning and potential blindness. And how do I know this? Easy.

It does exactly what it says on the tin.