surrealistic humour
I can sing
I can talk
It's almost two months till the flat's contract expires, and finally our landlord has got back to his senses by buying us a brand new washing machine. Calling a technician every time the old wreckage suffers an emotional breakdown isn't very economical. The machine has been the bane of our lives: every time it whirls away it leaves a puddle on the kitchen floor, and on occasions the moody cow just refuses to spin altogether. In comparison, the new one is mentally and physicall healthy; it's so happy it sings after each task is done. Oh, and a boy called HY bought me a handy phone for Skype users. The speaker gets the same experience as talking on a normal landline phone--quite amazing, eh? Now the sight of me using a phone from HY may be stranger than seeing ET phone home. Mind you, both sets of parents are as confused as ever, as if they were in the crime scene of Tom Stoppard's The Real Inspector Hound, asking who dunnit? I suppose I could quote Hillary Clinton; when asked about her husband she simply said, 'He just makes me laugh'. But there is something more than that. Any comments on the outcomes are hindsight views based on each person's experiences, who knows what will happen? It's an opportunity for both parties to adjust and think. The past three years+ were truely happy and made sense, but...
'Without a little surrealistic humour, life gets boring: if everything makes sense, we don't think', says Phillip Jones Griffiths on the Guardian photo awards reportage winner.