Saturday 19 September 2015

Saturday Evenings: Stay In, Sit Up and Switch On

We recently had our kitchen done up. It was a freebie from our housing association which we just could turn down. Or as someone else might have put it, "an offer we couldn't refuse." The freebie, however, meant that I could not join my wife and daughter on our much-longed-for holiday in the Caribbean. My son and I stayed behind to ensure the work got done properly.

On the first evening, after the contractors had finished ripping out all the kitchen units and cupboards, taken out the floor and gone home for the day I stood in this temporarily-empty, dusty space. This is the same space in which I had stood and sat down for more than ten years with pots, pans, plates and cutlery around me. Yet, I suddenly felt swept away by the power of the echo of my voice bouncing off the kitchen walls. I also felt exposed. The bareness of our soon-to-be new kitchen had both an eerie and hypnotic effect on me. My voice sounded louder than usual and this made me self-conscious, a trait I am not aware of possessing in great doses.

I realised that this absence of furniture was more than the mere replacement of a set of units for another. To me this moment meant the instant realisation that to be human is also to hear your real voice bouncing off the walls and coming back to you. It is being you, the real you. The bare kitchen with its un-plastered walls, wires hanging out and bomb-hit look, made me think of how we “dress up” our voices as we grow up, sometimes inadvertently, hiding our real ones.

Not my kitchen, but it still feels eerie

There is nothing like a window with no blinds on (we asked the contractors to chuck them away as we were buying new ones) to make you confront the outside world. Especially when the new lamp is one of the brightest ones you have ever seen in your life and you can’t see out. You are being seen but cannot return the favour fully. All this made me think of the various layers we use to cover (disguise?) our voices, in the same way that we buy a kettle, a toaster, a smoothie-maker and a microwave to match the colour on the walls of our kitchens. I know my voice is the tool through which I let the outside world know the assumptions, the platitudes and misconceptions my brain churns out. I also know that that might not be the real me all of the time. Through the blinds-free window I was being exposed in a manner I had not considered before. Plus, I also felt as if I was not in control of this transaction: audience outside my house vs actor under bright, fluorescent lamp. It was the monologue I had never prepared for and which I had no intention of delivering.

For the duration of the work in the kitchen I avoided the room at night. Tough action to take as my CDs and other belongings were in our “office”. Still, I moved as much stuff from our office to my bedroom as I could. Nevertheless, there was still a strong attraction in me towards the kitchen in the same way that the main character of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart must have had towards the man he kills. I have never been convinced that Poe’s creation hated the old man completely. I always thought the short story was a metaphor for that which lives within us and yet we cannot name. Sometimes it takes an eye – and the imaginary threat it poses to us – to awaken our most primitive reactions, some others is the dismantling of a whole kitchen. You might see this whole scenario as nothing but flumadiddle but it did make sense to me then.

I was glad when the contractors began to furnish the room. The boiler came in first, then the electrics, then the floor, the cupboards, the surfaces and the sink. By the time my wife returned from Barbados, there was just the handyman to pop in and apply the final touches. The day the project manager and supervisor came to carry out the inspection, I was pleased to see that my voice had got back to the level it was before. A voice that was all “dressed up” and ready to go.



© 2015

Next Post: “Urban Diary””, to be published on Wednesday 23rd September at 6pm (GMT)

15 comments:

  1. What an interesting perspective, our voice in an empty space. Goodness, how often does that happen that we confront our naked voice...

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  2. I wish there were before and after pictures for us to see. I bet it now looks wonderful.

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  3. Que bueno tener una nueva cocina, lo que uno siempre sueña, pues seguro que la vas a encontrar mucho mas espaciosa y cómoda.
    Un abrazo.

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  4. What an interesting (and confronting) series of thoughts. We wear so many masks, and I hadn't (before) considered our voice as one of them. But it is.

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  5. Sometimes the voices sure can come out differently. Ugg to the mess though, but bet it is great looking now.

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  6. The evening before I read this piece, I had watched a television show in which an Australian actor, who I am accustomed to hearing using his natural, very pronounced accent, this time performing a role using a tone of voice which was a mix of "cowboy" (Texas/Oklahoma/High Plains) and Deep South (Mississippi/Georgia). Add to that a military inflection. I am not sure exactly which he was trying to emulate, but it made me think about how much one's accent, in particular, not to mention the overall sound of the voice itself, has a significant role in one's persona. The Australian actor had taken on an entirely new persona. Now, CiL, you remind me of this aspect again.

    I hope your kitchen project turned out to your satisfaction. I usually am ready to shoot contractors long before they complete a project for me. Craftsmanship and timeliness have largely been replaced by "haphazard-manship" and workmen taking their own sweet time.

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  7. Very interesting perspective. Thanks for this great post.

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  8. Been there, Cuban, so I know exactly how you were feeling. Fortunately my kitchen did not face the road but I swear everyone could hear me speak. I vowed never again to go in for a new kitchen. I couldn't stand the upheaval now. Your wife must be thrilled with the new kitchen now.

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  9. Ha! What an interesting set of thoughts about all this. I do understand that bareness that you mean--my husband had the kitchen in a family house redone this year--sort of by accident--but it was so strange to have it naked. (In our case, you really couldn't go in it much--while this was happening.) But we are creatures of our spaces for sure, even when we think we live very much in our heads.

    I am in a lucky/weird situation as I live in the country most of the time where there is no one around for miles and miles. We don't really worry much about opening closing blinds as a result, although sometimes the night can feel quite imposing. But visitors seem to find the blinds or curtains much more important, because they are not used to that kind of exposure. (Here I think all that could see you would be a deer!) (I have lived in more social places, of course! and understand what you wrote so articulately.) Thanks. k.

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  10. It's fascinating, how we define ourselves in our spaces. It's probsbly why I love mountains - they are so huge and I am so small and insignificant, they never fail to remind me that I might as well just be myself, as any effort that goes into presenting myself as 'other' is a waste of energy up here!

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  11. Such a fabulous post! I am familiar with that real voice after we cleaned out our family home a few years back as we got ready to sell it. Suddenly whole rooms that had been filled with all sorts of stuff were suddenly empty and our voices bounce off the walls. Very strange feeling as you realize how fast the years have flown by. Love the Poe analogy btw. Take care!

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  12. Hi ACIL - it's funny how we hear our own voice, yet when we're presented with it in audio format - it's a shock! Interesting to read your reaction to the changes ... I sincerely hope it meets with the family's approval ... and I bet your wife was happy to be away! Cheers Hilary

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  13. I wonder if we ever let ourselves hear our naked voice? Perhaps we need those layers...

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  14. nice to get a free makeover of your kitchen, though must have been irritating to sit through the changes at the time!

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