My Father had a scratch on his car and I figured I was the one to fix it. Having confidence but zero experience I sanded the surface smooth, used filler and then sanded again until it felt scratch-free once more. Satisfied that it was now time to apply the undercoat of paint I sensed I was on the last leg of this task and felt things were going really well. I retrieved the spray tin of paint that matched the metallic green of the car. My father had bought it some time ago to cover up the odd bang from shopping trolleys. It was an old tin and the nozzle had broken on the top.
I quickly found another one from a different spray can and after removing the broken bit pushed the working one into place. Unfortunately, the can immediately sprayed across my face in a horizontal green stripe. It was like someone had painted a green bandana across my eyes from one side to the other. The pain was extraordinary as the metallic paint got into my eyes. Until that moment I was blissfully unaware that metallic paint is called this because it has roughly 1-part powdered metal to 50 parts paint. I staggered into the house and frightened the life of my parents who could instantly see they had a problem on their hands. My father ushered me quickly into the car I had just been working on and rushed me to the nearest hospital to Dungiven, which is Altnagelvin Hospital in Derry about 20 miles away.
We ended up in the busy A and E department which was packed with people all seeking help from medical personnel. I couldn’t see them, as my eyes were tightly shut, but I could hear their voices and the busyness of the environment. My father began explaining to those around us what had happened. He took great pains to explain I had been working on his car when this accident had happened and added unnecessary details like the metallic green colour of his car and the spray tin. Being in a lot of pain I was bewildered that over time as people left to be triaged and new occupants arrived in the A and E my father continued to retell the same story to this new captive audience. Feeling embarrassed at what happened I began to resent the retelling of the disastrous paint job to so many strangers.
Then the penny suddenly dropped. At that time of the Troubles, as we called it, girls who went out with those of the opposite persuasion (ie Catholic or Protestant) were routinely tied up against lampposts or gates and covered in paint (green or orange) to shame them. My father was retelling the car fixing story as the majority of people in the A and E would automatically think I had been having a dalliance with someone across the cultural divide and had been punished accordingly.
The green paint indicated to all that I was a protestant who had gone out with a catholic and had been punished for my sins. This realisation changed things considerably for me. Being eighteen and never having had a boyfriend of any persuasion I began to feel, despite the pain in my eyes, that I had accomplished a new status. These people suspected that I had been having an affair and despite it not being true I felt their suspicions were a sign of confidence that I could be someone who could have hung out with some guy!
On some strange level, I felt my station was higher than it had been earlier that morning before all this had happened. I perversely wished I had dressed better for this outing and perhaps at least brushed my hair to suit the role they suspected. The doctor in A and E carefully removed the green metallic pieces from my eyes using a long-handled cotton bud and it was amazing how many he had to take out. He wasn’t concerned with the paint across my face, as he said it would wear off eventually. So, I left the busy hospital with my eyes pain-free and a green strip across my face feeling like a new quite desirable woman. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good!
