I am one of the people George Osborne really hates. There are a number of reasons for this, many of which I am proud of, but specifically, I am one of those reprehensible people who, on occasion, keeps their curtains closed during the day. I know this makes me a Bad Person in his mythology; presumably, I am demonstrating my innate troglodytic tendencies, and maybe even shunning the good clean sunlight for reasons too significant of moral turpitude to mention. My ilk has been mentioned in speeches, held up for scorn and malicious comparison to my harder-working fellow citizens. But Osborne has not yet (as far as I know) ventured an opinion as to why I sometimes dont wake up and greet the dawn with cheery orisons. Partly, its location. I do not, like the people Osborne knows, live in a detached house, in its own grounds. I live in a council flat (which I like very much, btw) and my windows literally open onto the street. Anyone can (and kids, friends of my daughter, often do) stick their nose up against my bedroom and living room windows. Also, I live in a city centre with a lot of taller buildings close around; my flat gets no direct sunlight, so we need electric light a lot more often than most people. We all know what happens to net curtains when you turn the light on, right? A lot of people pass my house, were 100 yards away from a major Tesco, so keeping the curtains closed is pretty reasonable. Then theres heat. When you can only have the heating on for an hour a day, insulating that gaping expanse of glass in the wall is a good idea. If Im careful about doors, keeping the curtains closed makes a lot of difference – not to how often I have the heating on, because thats fixed by the sheer inordinate cost of it, but as to how long I can move about and do stuff before the cold sends me shivering under a blanket. I suffer in the cold; scar tissue seizes up and contracts around my rib-cage and back, I cant expand my lungs properly and I lose motor control in my arms and hands. Quasimodo twitches and spasms start running through the destroyed muscles of my chest and shoulder and I find myself contorting in an effort to ease pain, its a positive mortification which cold makes unbearable. You see, I like daylight as much as any Tory; in my last flat, which was on the 7th floor and was not overlooked, I didnt have any curtains. I just dont get access to much of it nowadays. I am not complaining; if not for Osbornes fatuous jibes, I wouldnt have mentioned it at all. But my keeping my curtains closed isnt a lifestyle choice and I dont see why it should be portrayed as such for base propaganda.
Posted on: Mon, 03 Feb 2014 08:49:38 +0000
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