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Mrs Cholmondeley-Warner Paints A Thousand Words (guest contribution)

Photobooth portrait of woman with short hair.

Mrs Cholmondeley-Warner; Available for interior decor and slug removal consultations

My dear Miss Poptoe,

It is with no little pleasure that I write to inform you that my poultry cup runneth o’er. Four elegant pullets are busily engaged in reducing the population of slugs, snails and similar enemies of the gardener, and to add to my joy, yesterday one of them presented me with her first ovoid offering. Moreover, they are truly an ornamental delight; the two white birds have subtle chestnut streaks, whilst the two chestnuts are correspondingly marked with white. Would that all things could be so tastefully and optically pleasing.
 
My thoughts turned to such matters of aesthetics since I decided to have my withdrawing room redecorated, and with blithe insouciance gathered a collection of colour charts to browse in the cocktail hour.  What I thought would help solve the conundrum of which tint would best enhance my new curtains became instead  a severe source of discombobulation with a dizzying onslaught to my senses (no, nothing to do with the cocktails I assure you…they were well diluted with champagne).  It started unremarkably enough with a medley of what were termed ‘neutrals’; shades as exciting as a bowl of tapioca at the Lord Mayor’s banquet, and I might add, much the same hue.  But these were followed by a veritable kaleidoscope of riotous garishness.  I am aware that colours are subjective – one man’s ‘zingy lime sherbet’ is another’s migraine inducing acid nightmare, and that to some the delightful ‘soda fountain shrimp’ can conjure up a grandmother’s discarded bloomers, but even so, I was, as my grandmother would say, hornswaggled.
 
And my dear, I could not believe the outlandish nomenclature used to describe the colours – ‘vesper bell’ and ‘urban obsession’ to name but two!  It may well be that you sophisticated cosmopolitan fashionistas would recognize shades named ‘Locatelli aubergine’ or ‘crushed scrotum’, but being a provincial matron of mature years, deep purple is quite an adequate description.  As well, my experience informs me that not every paint colour does what it says on the tin.  For example, that gentle, comforting terracotta is as duplicitous as my bathroom scales.  It has a subversive component that, as it dries, transforms its mellow warmth into sour fondant biliousness reminiscent of a splattered melange of jelly and ice cream following on overindulgent children’s party.  And as for that soothing pale cafe au lait, over night it emerges in its true colour – a pernicious violent violet. 
 
However, I have at last made my choice.  The walls are to be a robust shade of putrefying corpse, whilst the ceiling will tone nicely with a paler shade of mortuary slab cadaver*.  I am looking ahead here, so that when the time comes for me to be laid out in my shroud for respectful public viewing, I shall blend tastefully with the decor and be venerated for my discerning colour flair.
 
Aesthetically yours,

Mrs Cholmondeley-Warner

* ‘Ancient artefact’ and ‘Egyptian cotton’…. any the wiser?

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About prettyfeetpoptoe

I live in London and have both my own legs so I am fortunate enough to get out and about on occasion. I form many views on the things that I see and do and love nothing better than a session of linguistic gymnastics in order to share these views.

16 responses »

  1. Christ almighty, that took around 15 minutes to read properly! Mrs C.W. looking hot in the pic. Such is her pulchritude….

    Reply
    • Mrs Cholmondeley Warner

      I am so happy to have provided you with something other than the Sunday dreadfuls for your entertainment. And my charms are like those of a fine wine, best savoured little and often after being fully matured. Scraping the bottom of the barrel is a term I fail to recognize.

      Reply
  2. I want to see the Dulux Dog advertise those pastels…

    Reply
  3. Is Mrs C-W available for interior decoration advice? She is a literary genius, however I have to admit that I had to look up a couple of words in the dictionary! Also, do let me know who does her eyebrows, I’ve not seen an arch like that for an age!

    Reply
    • Mrs Cholmondeley Warner

      My dear thing, ours is a rich language and I adjure all my young friends to avail themselves of its diversity. So handy for tackling those fiendish cryptic crossword puzzles that the men in white coats recommend to personages of my age. As to my eyebrows, they have had a natural quizzical curve since my astonishment at meeting the world at my birth.

      Reply
  4. Ms. Poptoe, I heartily hope you’re related to the venerable literary maverick and humourous pundit that is Mrs. Cholmondeley-Warner! You certainly both share a fine-tuned sense of sarcasm and literary nuance (or should I say, “hue”)?

    Reply
    • Mrs Cholmondeley Warner

      The Cholmondeley Warner family tree is widely spreading, and has at times been admonished for its vagrancy. Whilst Miss Poptoe and I share a penchant for sardonic humour and sharp tongued repartee, my footwear would alert you to our unfamilial roots. She trots about in vertiginous heels, whereas I am an aficionado of doughty brogues. For my more frivolous moments I sport a fetching pair of leopard print trainers with go faster stripes (they lie) and can only be tempted to don my high heels if I can be assured of an invalid carriage to transport me to my destination.

      Reply
  5. eremophila

    Reblogged this on Eremophila’s Musings and commented:
    And now, for something completely different…..

    Reply
  6. eremophila

    I once prided myself on eloquent elocution, but sadly, fumbling my way through the reading of this, I have to admit to falling by the wayside….mind you, there are worse ways to end up in the gutter….

    Reply
    • Mrs Cholmondeley Warner

      As you may recall from an earlier posting, I am well acquainted with the gutter. Just remember to strike a balletic pose and demand points for artistic merit.

      Reply
  7. Crikey! What a beaut looking sheila! Mind you, I had to shed a quiet private tear at the thought of one of the shades chosen for the lounge room. Only an aesthetic could produce any subsequent feeling of “je ne sais quoi”. An old sailing mate of mine, Andy Beauchamp by name (and by nature) needs his rumpus room repainted. You seem to have a knack for making colours come to life. Is, however, your hourly rate beyond his – or your – grasp? 🙂

    Reply
    • Mrs Cholmondeley Warner

      Dear Heart, I charge nothing for the inspiration I endeavour to sprinkle. Being an antipodean, surely your chum’s paint colour should be ‘baggy green’ toned with ‘ashes defeat’? What a winning combination don’t you think?

      Reply
  8. Aren’t paint color names a riot! (I love that the way Brits spell “Colour” and we Yanks spell it “Color”.
    Along with the “crushed scrotum” purple, would “semen stain” coordinate with it?

    Reply
    • Mrs Cholmondeley Warner

      Were ‘crushed scrotum’ to be selected then I feel that ‘whey faced faint’ would be an obvious choice, though ‘primal (s)cream would be an acceptable alternative.

      Reply

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