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The phenomenological turn in Alsatian architectural theory
Trina and I have an arrangment, that on the conclusion of congress, I will, if necessary, withdraw to the "fish finger"--that is, the old sofa cushion which serves as a makeshift bed and can be set up in the living room--in order to let her snore in peace and me sleep in a similarly restful condition.
On our return from Strasbourg, therefore, and once full relations had produced the desired outcome, I took myself downstairs. As I arrived in the living room, which is adjacent to the kitchen, I noticed that the old fridge was unusually noisy. I shut the door to the kitchen, curled up in my single bed and began to turn over, in my drunken head, pleasant thoughts of some of the features of the Alsatian urban fabric that I found particularly stimulating last week.
An attractive example of a Strasbourgeois pavement
I woke up in the middle of night, the fridge still making an irritatingly loud effort to cool my tins of Electric Pear cider (best before end October 2012). I clamped the communicating door fast shut and tried to think about pavements.
At about seven in the morning, Trina came down as she had to return to her obligations. Once she had left, I went to investigate the source of the sound. I had been wrong to accuse my fridge.
Ten or so doors down, an alarm was carelessly piercing the street with its oscillating tones. There was a sign in the window saying that the house is to rent, and a mobile number. The man at the other end put the phone down on me as I was politely requesting that someone come round and turn the alarm off.
I rang the Police and the Environmental Health Department. Half an hour later it suddenly stopped, so I went out immediately to stick my oar in check that everything was OK. I felt like a Man of Action as I walked down the road with my mobile in one hand, hoping that people were watching me.
With his refined sensitivity and artistic bent, Oxfam chic shirts and utter cluelessness when handed a spanner, Looby is often placed in the Friendzone by some girls and presumed gay by others. But a revelatory new film depicts a man who--behind a Huysmanesque presentation of his self in everyday life--has sorted out four women and an irritating noise this year alone. Andrzej Wadja's neo-realist essay Man of Action follows Looby as he BEDS a Senior Lecturer in Croatian Photosynthesis; CHARMS another with his souffle aux cerises; and TAKES CHARGE when a faulty alarm causes distress to his more timid and retiring neighbours. In selected cinemas from Thursday.
16 comments
One should always take care to turn over a chilled can of cider and tap the bottom thrice. This method ensures that you awaken the fermentation of the refreshment and enhance the pleasure tenfold. Alsatian women however prefer not to have their bottom tapped on the Sabbath. Always best to endure the local customs when ever possible to ensure one gets laid, but not shot.
CF: Thanks for the tip. I’m not sure that out of date Electric Pear’s quality can be improved by any method at all, but I’ll bear it in mind when I’m solvent again and drinking stuff that would benefit from such attention.
F: Yes. I particularly like the pronounced curve in the surface pattern.
Thank you. I’d get you a free pass to the VIP premiere, sponsored by Electric Pear.
Yes nice curves. Any chance you think I could get one of them laid in England?
ooh…..have been out of the loop….or loob….for awhile and was trying to catch up but am confused……are you still with Trina or are you dating again??? Still hilarious whatever it is you’re up to!!
Hello stranger! Yes, still seeing Trina, although other women continue to fling themselves at me of course, begging for succour.
Because Strasbourg is a hotbed of terrorist activity? That’s why the long guns?
Didn’t the niceness of the locals restore your faith in the human race just a bit? I’m always taken aback when I’m treated kindly be strangers. How goes it with the Muslim neighbors? Any more food deliveries?
This is the beauty of Europe. You can WALK to completely different cultures. Different languages. Different food. Here in the bloated U.S., you can travel for days and nothing will have changed.
I don’t know if I’d be ringing the police if I were you. Not until you get the rent settled.
I’d pay to see that movie and watch it again when it came on cable.
Once again, best posts around.
You’re too kind Mister.
The reason why the guns were remarkable was that Strasbourg, even by European standards, is very calm and safe, and the locals were lovely, really helpful and friendly.
All gone a bit quiet on the Muslim food exchange front. Quite relieved in a way. It was becoming a bit of an obligation, and I still suspect they threw my stuff away as it didn’t meet their cut-throat standards.
The bothersome lodger is moving out this week. I’ve spoken to his Dad. More on this later.
Thanks, I’ll put you in the front row with Isabelle at Cannes. Or Morecambe, one of the two.
So who would play the part of Looby in the film? Or are you thinking stage play?
I would play myself! I’m an omphalopesychite.
What, one of those little orange chaps from Willy Wonka?
It’s a Chef Files neologism, constructed from elements which have never hitherto been combined. It means “navel gazer".
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