Solar Eclipse of the Heart
One thing that perplexes me about the housing in this city is the fucking curtains. I’ve lived in four London apartments now, and everyone of them has had shitty curtains in the bedrooms.
Don’t get me wrong, they’ve always looked decent. It’s the choice of cloth that pisses me off. Paper thin, and always in some kind of pale blue or light yellow anaemic colour. Great fabric for making a Summer Frock, not so great when you want to block those pesky sun rays from entering your room.
The United Kingdom is pretty high up North on the Planet, which makes for some long Winter nights, and, conversely, long Summer Days. The Sun rises pretty fucking early in Summer (which starts in the Northern Hemisphere in a few days), and my sorrowful eyelids rise with it, as the menacing UV rays penetrate my translucent foetus curtains and bash my tired face.
Who chooses the curtains for these houses? Why would they think that I would want to rise at 4:30-fucking-am every day? To milk the Cows and feed the Chickens?
Bah.
What I ended up doing at my old Battersea home, was sticking Al-foil to the inside of my window. Sweet darkness. It’s a trick I learnt from Bill Hicks, who did the same to his household windows so that he and his stand-up comedian buddies could stay up all night snorting coke and writing routines, without the rude intrusion of Sunlight.
Hey Sun? You cause Cancer, and you kill Gremlins, and you wake me up too early in the mornings.
Fuck off.
Don’t get me wrong, they’ve always looked decent. It’s the choice of cloth that pisses me off. Paper thin, and always in some kind of pale blue or light yellow anaemic colour. Great fabric for making a Summer Frock, not so great when you want to block those pesky sun rays from entering your room.
The United Kingdom is pretty high up North on the Planet, which makes for some long Winter nights, and, conversely, long Summer Days. The Sun rises pretty fucking early in Summer (which starts in the Northern Hemisphere in a few days), and my sorrowful eyelids rise with it, as the menacing UV rays penetrate my translucent foetus curtains and bash my tired face.
Who chooses the curtains for these houses? Why would they think that I would want to rise at 4:30-fucking-am every day? To milk the Cows and feed the Chickens?
Bah.
What I ended up doing at my old Battersea home, was sticking Al-foil to the inside of my window. Sweet darkness. It’s a trick I learnt from Bill Hicks, who did the same to his household windows so that he and his stand-up comedian buddies could stay up all night snorting coke and writing routines, without the rude intrusion of Sunlight.
Hey Sun? You cause Cancer, and you kill Gremlins, and you wake me up too early in the mornings.
Fuck off.
posted by Beef at Thursday, May 24, 2007
2 Comments:
Beef, the sun does not shine in the UK. Poor love, it's just a bad hangover isn't it?
The girls must just swoon for that alfoiled window look.
He just can`t afford mirrors on the ceiling.
Instead of the rotating bed - he employs 50 000 cockroaches to spinit.
Meanwhile Benny stands in the corner going "wowwh wowwh wa whakka-tah - whakkatah wowh (repeat)"
The worst love shack unknown to womankind.
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