Painting By Numbers

Runner beans dangle through the pheasant-proof net

Whilst market gardening is my principal revenue-generating activity, I do operate a number of other sidelines to supplement the far-from-lucrative income that vegetables can generate. One such “nice little earner” is painting. Not watercolours, exactly, more slapping paint over something for cash. I have one regular client, a local carpenter, who from time to time gets me in to his workshop to help with a job.

This last week was one such time. The brief: to paint the inside of a large number of chipboard boxes he had constructed a pale utilitarian grey. Once bolted together and clad with some fancy timber, these boxes will together constitute two huge bars for a rather swish party in Geneva later this month. But don't bother trying to get tickets, it's exclusively for staff of a well known investment bank. Yes I am, very indirectly, working for the banking industry. Sorry.

As the hours drift by and I continue to daub and roll paint over these embryonic pieces of alcohol-provisioning structures, attempting to get a nice even coat despite the fact that not one banker will see this side of the bar (and the bar staff no doubt will be too busy to examine it) I have time to reflect on the meaning of life, or in particular the working life. There is something affirming about being a small part of a larger operation, however worthy or otherwise the ultimate goal may be. No doubt hundreds of people are employed for weeks to bring this party into being, preparing the venue, organising the festivities, ordering in the alcohol, hiring the bar staff, and so on. Everyone is doing it for the money. “Grab the cash and run”, as my carpenter friend wryly puts it. But whilst we work, we are doing what humans do. Solving problems, either alone or with others. Planning. Using our wits, our dexterity, our skills, to achieve an end.

Quinoa drying in the polytunnel

That's not to say that work is always good. Stress, excessive hours, punishing physical labour, low pay, poor management, etc, can all have a damaging effect on health and on relationships outside of the workplace. And if the job you are doing is ultimately not fulfilling for whatever reason, psychological problems can ensue.

Carrots drying in the polytunnel

I found this on the polytunnel floor. It's an exploded achocha fruit, revealing its seeds.

Still, despite the boredom and the pontificating, I quite enjoyed my painting. I worked outside in the fresh air unlike the carpenter and his mate getting dusty and hot inside. I got all my clothes and skin covered in paint, but it washes off easily. I could say how many hours I wanted to work, and when. Cups of tea were plentiful. Stress levels were rock bottom, for me at least. And it pays better per hour than market gardening. Which isn't hard.