Contrary to last week, when I spent Saturday and Sunday at friends’, I managed to spend the past couple of days by myself at mine’s. OK, the place is not actually mine, as it is a rental; nevertheless, I have been living here for about a year and a half and it is to all intents and purposes the place that I call “home” and that holds together all my earthly possessions (at least the ones I have in London).
If anything, the past few days have been a reminder of how much I enjoy and need to be by myself to gather my thoughts, recharge and be. No harm there and no shame in admitting this has always been my preference.
I didn’t think that the show was going to grow on me, but it has. The fascination goes beyond the fact it covers an industry that I work in. It comes from the show presenting the America of the 1960s; the representation of gender roles in society; their consumer habits; the emerging products and technologies; the thought process behind the meetings in Don Draper’s office; the office “banter” (note: I don’t like this word, but for lack of a better one).
America, our consumer society and the products and technologies that surround us have changed a lot since the 1960s. The thinking that they put to the table hasn’t.
Maybe because they are the ones who have created it – and they are still around.
To the rest of the world, it may appear to be a tiny house. To me, it is my castle.
It is a small house in the country, where my grandparents lived and where I was brought up almost up to the age of five. In front of the house, there is a small garden of daffodils, red and yellow tulips, roses, and a vineyard.
On the right, there used to be a handful of locust trees and a lime tree. They smelled splendid in spring when they were all in bloom.
Losing is bad enough. Losing everything or having it taken from you is like going to bed in the evening and covering yourself with a comfortable duvet, dreaming of a good night’s sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night to the harrowing sounds of a tornado that has snatched the four walls from around you and the house from underneath you. You wake up on a pile of rubble watching the remains of your home blown in the wind.
Should you breathe? Should you check if you’re ok? Should you run after what’s been blown up and try to save at least some precious items? Should you even allow yourself to cry? Or should you make a plan to pull it back together? First.
It’s a “real” shitty feeling, as they say back in New York.