cru 2005

What is it that makes our home so terrifying, so gently ...

I’ve got a new flat... Actually, I’ve got a flat. It’s in Manchester, it’s great. Now when I first arrived from Paris last month in what some of my acquaintances have boldly called “a desperate move”, I stood in front of the victorian house, lit a fag to drain my sweat (actually nearly snapped my back in Piccadilly on account of the luggage), and thought : “what a charming house”, with the proper Eton-Queen accentuation I pride myself to master.
My landlord arrived and we got in.
I had a stroll in the ground floor apartment. “Nice space”, I said. We went back to the living room and looked through the windows out into the street. “Great view !”, I exclaimed, “smashing light !”. I took a step closer, interested. “Right, so, I presume the shutters just slide from the top”, I asked in a isn’t-technology-a-wonderful-thing voice. “What ?” said my landlord, “no no, you just draw the curtains, like that”, he added while pointing to the ceiling. I kept my ground fairly, a little knowledgeable, slightly complacent smile on my face. “Yes yes, I can see that, but what about the shutters” I insisted. He looked at me. “No, there is no shutters” I thought, surely, shutters = volets, and curtains = rideau. And then it hit me : “But, that’s impossible, there must be some shutters”. I tried to reason him, “look, I’m sure the architects must have thought about it, you can’t just let windows open like that, any kid walks by, he throws a brick and you’ve got it way up”. “Well...” he said. He frowned. I panicked. “But you musn’t worry, it’s never happened before”. I protested, “but how do I protect myself, I heard the place was full of criminals !” “That’s a bit exaggerated”, he replied as a siren started to blow down the road, “besides, anybody walks at night close to the walls, a light comes up”. “A light ?”, I said. “Yes, a light”. As far as I am concerned, this was beginning to look like a exotic comical nightmare “What about the alarm ?”. “No, only the flats at the back got one of those...” You just want to draw the curtains so to speak.
Having settled nonetheless, I quickly realised that all local inhabitants precisely kept their curtains drawn, at all time, so that the place looks like tombstone. I stay inside, I get my food delivered, I only go out to buy whiskey from time to time, I don’t speak to anyone, and by God, I keep my curtains drawn.