électrique, mixte,
lamps d’éclairage du four
cas speciaux
Allures de chauffe
puissance électrique
characteristic de brûleurs,
graissage de robinet de dessus
And for the refrigerator,
Prescriptions d’utilisation.
They demanded constant attention. Twice a month the knob de securie of the hot water cylinder had to be manoeuvred to keep the pipes from calcifying (tartarisation); a small palpeur on the electric stove which acted as a thermostat had to be treated as gently as if it were a human heart capable of human heartbeats; and speaking of heartbeats, I felt them in the electric meter when it ticked and tocked the hour – J’ai dit ‘tais-tu’ à son pouls ; now and again it was my duty to defrost the refrigerator by pressing the automatic defrost button, unplugging the evaporator, placing a tray beneath it and collecting the ice-water; to clean stove and refrigerator; sweep, scrub, clean; clean leaves from their whirlwind life at the front door; obliterate, cause to vanish the dirt, the dust, the dead leaves; take out the rubbish in small plastic bags to be deposited at the corner of the street by the railway line where the huge feeder-machine swallowed them five times a week; sweep away crumbs, wash the smoke from curtains, take sheets and towels to the laundry, retrieve them in their plastic jackets, still and white; clean the bath, the toilet, with blue disinfectant and fuming bleach-powder, flush, clean, scour, wash down the steps of the patio, remove the dead leaves from the geraniums and support their few pink flower-heads against the earthenware pots ranged around the small stone balcony; geraniums everywhere; clean scour scrub; and bath myself twice a week, my allowance, lying in the deep bath and looking out the window at the tall tops of the waving trees.
Even then, when Elizabeth came into the sitting-room, as she would do, on some pretext or other, she’d stoop to dislodge from the carpet a crumb that had escaped the absorbing power of the carpet sweeper.
It was after my third month at Menton – April had just begun – when I woke one morning to realise that I was indeed deaf . It was no joke, no dream, no imagination; and so I would not laugh, wake or rejoice.
14
At first I lay quietly, trying to surprise myself into hearing a sound and listening with acute attention, turning my head this way and that to receive the sound waves from the air. There was no interior sound as of rushing of my blood or beating of my heart as I had supposed, in the rare moments when I thought of deafness, would be emphasised and amplified. I cleared my throat. I heard nothing. I laughed selfconsciously, Ha Ha Ha. Still I heard nothing. I tapped my hand on the wall beside my bed. I switched on my small transistor radio. None of these actions resulted in sound. There was a velvet soundlessness that was not even silence. One might have thought that it had snowed in the night, snowed right up over the brim of the world. An enormous fatigue came over me as I imagined that I would now spend the rest of my life straining to listen. I closed my eyes and sank into a nothingness which became sleep, and when I woke once again an hour had passed and the sun had set three narrow panels of light on the wall opposite my bed.
I was still deaf. I shook my head and began again turning this way and that to trap the waves of sound, but it was no use. I began to think of practical matters. Consulting a doctor, Dr Rumor. Then, I felt I wanted to keep my deafness secret. But supposing it was a symptom of a serious condition? I was young enough to feel that the only serious condition could be that leading to a swift death. Dr Rumor then. Oh Dr Rumor, I have this problem.
—Yes, what seems to be the trouble?
Then I realised that I’d not hear him, that he would have to write down his questions, unless I were able to lip-read. I jumped out of bed and stared in the mirror. I spoke, —How are you today, exaggerating the movement of my
lamps d’éclairage du four
cas speciaux
Allures de chauffe
puissance électrique
characteristic de brûleurs,
graissage de robinet de dessus
And for the refrigerator,
Prescriptions d’utilisation.
They demanded constant attention. Twice a month the knob de securie of the hot water cylinder had to be manoeuvred to keep the pipes from calcifying (tartarisation); a small palpeur on the electric stove which acted as a thermostat had to be treated as gently as if it were a human heart capable of human heartbeats; and speaking of heartbeats, I felt them in the electric meter when it ticked and tocked the hour – J’ai dit ‘tais-tu’ à son pouls ; now and again it was my duty to defrost the refrigerator by pressing the automatic defrost button, unplugging the evaporator, placing a tray beneath it and collecting the ice-water; to clean stove and refrigerator; sweep, scrub, clean; clean leaves from their whirlwind life at the front door; obliterate, cause to vanish the dirt, the dust, the dead leaves; take out the rubbish in small plastic bags to be deposited at the corner of the street by the railway line where the huge feeder-machine swallowed them five times a week; sweep away crumbs, wash the smoke from curtains, take sheets and towels to the laundry, retrieve them in their plastic jackets, still and white; clean the bath, the toilet, with blue disinfectant and fuming bleach-powder, flush, clean, scour, wash down the steps of the patio, remove the dead leaves from the geraniums and support their few pink flower-heads against the earthenware pots ranged around the small stone balcony; geraniums everywhere; clean scour scrub; and bath myself twice a week, my allowance, lying in the deep bath and looking out the window at the tall tops of the waving trees.
Even then, when Elizabeth came into the sitting-room, as she would do, on some pretext or other, she’d stoop to dislodge from the carpet a crumb that had escaped the absorbing power of the carpet sweeper.
It was after my third month at Menton – April had just begun – when I woke one morning to realise that I was indeed deaf . It was no joke, no dream, no imagination; and so I would not laugh, wake or rejoice.
14
At first I lay quietly, trying to surprise myself into hearing a sound and listening with acute attention, turning my head this way and that to receive the sound waves from the air. There was no interior sound as of rushing of my blood or beating of my heart as I had supposed, in the rare moments when I thought of deafness, would be emphasised and amplified. I cleared my throat. I heard nothing. I laughed selfconsciously, Ha Ha Ha. Still I heard nothing. I tapped my hand on the wall beside my bed. I switched on my small transistor radio. None of these actions resulted in sound. There was a velvet soundlessness that was not even silence. One might have thought that it had snowed in the night, snowed right up over the brim of the world. An enormous fatigue came over me as I imagined that I would now spend the rest of my life straining to listen. I closed my eyes and sank into a nothingness which became sleep, and when I woke once again an hour had passed and the sun had set three narrow panels of light on the wall opposite my bed.
I was still deaf. I shook my head and began again turning this way and that to trap the waves of sound, but it was no use. I began to think of practical matters. Consulting a doctor, Dr Rumor. Then, I felt I wanted to keep my deafness secret. But supposing it was a symptom of a serious condition? I was young enough to feel that the only serious condition could be that leading to a swift death. Dr Rumor then. Oh Dr Rumor, I have this problem.
—Yes, what seems to be the trouble?
Then I realised that I’d not hear him, that he would have to write down his questions, unless I were able to lip-read. I jumped out of bed and stared in the mirror. I spoke, —How are you today, exaggerating the movement of my
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