TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile
Today I found out that my husband's parents want to switch houses, which means moving to the house above the pub. My heart dropped. From my airy little house full of light and birdsong to ... well, a minotaur's labyrinth. Here, we'll have no atmospheric views of the hills, only of Main Street, with its long noisy car queue due to the useless traffic light installed last year. At its cold, dimly lit heart is a staircase that winds up and up zig zagging off into multiple wings of dark corridors and locked rooms decorated in chintz and pastoral landscapes. And it’s noisy: the chimneys are full of quoking jackdaws and rising from its belly is the roar of punters and banging doors. Say goodbye to peace, privacy, and a good night's sleep! Last year was one long chain of deep sea changes, and I just want a lull for now. Sigh. Let's hope I don't have to move until after I submit my dissertation.