Sights and (misheard?) sounds

I got a couple brief doses of television this evening. The first came with a pint of stout in a pub. The show was a curling match which, to my both foreign and unsporty eyes, was more Greek than Greek is to me. The combination of brooms, ice, and camera angles was almost hallucinatory. The young lady cuddled up next to the young man on the same long bench as I purred: “I just l-o-v-e curling. It’s so sweet.”

Even without knowing diddly about the rules, I’m thinkin’ not. I moved on.

My next stop was a haircut. Here the television was silent but broadcasting with closed captions (which, lacking my glasses while under the scissors, I could not read with great accuracy). The show was “World’s Most Extreme Homes.” But, really, they were not. One was an apartment with a bathtub that was only about two feet long. The tenant was about six and half feet tall. So, comfortable soaks in the tub were probably not happening, but is that really “extreme”? The next house was in a windmill, a very large windmill. It reminded me of Peter Cameron’s novel The City of Your Final Destination (which I just discovered was made into a movie by James Ivory last year and how the heck did I manage to remain ignorant of that??). An interesting abode, but not extreme.

Extreme houses might better be shown: the “smallest house in Britain,” just for instance, or the “house” a fellow continued to live in after the close now called after the mythical Mary King was blocked to light and air.

As I walked home through relatively deserted streets–it’s the beginning of the last weekend of the nation’s “March Break,” observed by students from pre-primary through university–I passed a couple of young women who were chatting amiably. “Well, it’s better than a couple of broken legs,” one was asserting, about as casually as the windmill owners might have been saying: “Well, it’s better than living in an anthill.” “But I like blue,” the other replied, which assured me that I could not have been hearing anything correctly.


2 Responses to “Sights and (misheard?) sounds”

  1. Mary Burkey Says:

    Heavens! I actually WENT to the smallest house in Conwy last summer – or rather stood outside with a wonderful glass of Welsh brew in my hand…

  2. halifaxing Says:

    Going inside is best done by us shorter folks. Everything on the ground floor is within (my) arm’s reach and you have to close the access to the second storey–once you’re up there–to undo the bed from the wall….It is, indeed, an extreme house.

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