Mary Magdeleine is wearing a seat belt.
She is strapped to the faded-glory victorian chair adjacent to the fireplace. Her angel friend is also buckled in, on the opposite chair. The china cabinet is stuffed with fox furs and pink tissue which serve as a shroud for the surviving fine figurines and antique heirlooms. Pictures are crucified to the walls with six-inch nails and the Toby jug is strategically positioned so you don't see his cracked bottom.
This is the scene at the neighbour's house.
Next to them, at the Italian palace-ish house, it is bare-walled. Your voice echos. It looks like robbers have been.
At my house, its risk management verses how much I love the item (all the tacky coffee cups teeter fearlessly on edges), if it is crash proof (wooden with bang-marks already), or if it can bounce on my concrete floor.
I can't bear to look at bare walls. Oh, by the way, canvas sort of bounces!
Do we carry on as normal...or never go into an undercover car park again and NEVER bring out the best china - ever?
Are we going to duck for cover at every shake, rattle or roll for the rest of our lives?... like a Vietnam war solider heading for the hills at the mere sound of a helicopter's beating wings.
Lets hope the earth goes back to sleep for another 16,000 years - I want to clink the crystal once more.
Cheers!
Wordbird (up late - never have caffeine after midday!)
