Wednesday, August 25, 2010

The Foghorns of My Youth

And still continuing matters lavatorial (Ok, last one, this is getting ridiculous - Ed "Ed"? What do you mean "Ed"? You are the Ed - Brit We've been blogging too long - Ed) the ballcock/spindle arrangement in the cistern of our office loo has positioned itself so that it emits a long, low groan upon being operated.

Flushing the chain just now, I listened to its deep cry and was immediately transported, Proust-like, to the Portsmouth of my childhood, where the sad foghorns of the ceaselessly churning ferries would sound across the Solent. I confess my eyes moistened. O! O, the Foghorns of My Youth!

9 comments:

  1. I have to admit I can perform a pretty good Trumpet Voluntary when I seat myself for the morning exertions, but a foghorn? Phew, that must require some straining. Must leave you red in the face, I bet.

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  2. Willard10:23 am

    Blogging your morning ablutions has to be a new low point, though I have to congratulate you on achieving it so early in the day.

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  3. And just when I think the tone can't be lowered any further, you have to go all Enderby...

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  4. Willard11:14 am

    But I clearly did it to give you chance to raise the tone again by turning it literary.

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  5. Why were you flushing the chain - what are you going to do now it's gone? You'll have to get a string or piece of rope. And then you'll flush that and blog about it and round and round the whole thing will go forever and ever.

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  6. I'll bet you also point out when people should have said 'whom'.

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  7. Did you grow up in Waterlooville? Or perhaps Widley?

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  8. I don't care about that at all, but I hate 'cheaper prices'

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  9. The Americans are just impressed that even such quasi-foreigners as the British have advanced as far as "ballcocks," "spindles" and "cisterns." We had the vague idea that those of you who aren't still just dumping the "necessary" out the second floor windows were squatting over holes in the floor.

    Must just be in London.

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