I have a confession to make: I have never actually seen The Wizard of Oz. I’ve seen bits of it, of course – but I never watched it as a child and since then it hasn’t appealed to me. I find the whole concept quite bizarre. However, it’s impossible to escape the main themes – or tropes, as I suppose people would now call them – of the yellow brick road, the Tin Man and the Munchkins. And why do I mention it? Because it came up this morning. Mark was wanting a tin bath in the bedroom since our bathroom is so cold: the heater hasn’t worked since 2006 or thereabouts and when an electrician came to look at it, he said it needed replacing. In fact I believe the word he used was ‘condemned’*. That’s the problem with this house: you pick at a thread and the whole thing unravels, so basically the whole place needs gutting and rebuilding. I think the structure is basically sound, and the roof has been done within the last decade; it also has double glazing throughout – but the wiring needs replacing, many of the walls need re-plastering, and it needs central heating putting in. None of which the owner can afford to do. In fact, the owner can not now afford to keep the house on, so we are officially looking for somewhere else to live. If you know of a 3-bedroom house for rent in Leicester, please let me know.
Last night we attempted to watch The Diving-Bell and the Butterfly.
This interesting and moving tale of a man with ‘locked-in syndrome’:
I can’t imagine a worse hell than being able to think and feel coherently but not communicate at all – it’d be analogous to what I felt when I couldn’t write, only much much worse. If you haven’t read the novel that was dictated by the blink of an eyelid alone, I recommend it – the film is good too, although I have to confess that we went to bed having only watched half, as we could hardly keep awake.
Alas! I was woken twice in the night by texts from my loving daughter telling me that a) she’d just finished work and b) she’d be staying at a friend’s house.
And so to a bleary start this morning and Mark going on about wanting a Tin Bath.
‘If I only had a bath,’ I sang.
* I find it amusing when electricians come round and declare things ‘condemned’, as though they’re about to call on a convention of other electricians to come and tell it off…