Monday, 14 January 2013

Mean and Whingey.

It’s snowing hard here. Did I ever say how much I hate snow? And did I ever say why? Thought so.

Lockwood thinks he’s getting breakfast as well as the use of the spare room, but I’ll soon disabuse him of that notion. And Isabella’s complaining that she doesn’t have a coat. It’s time the tenant went home. He can get the bitch to point him in the right direction while she’s out there with the snow shovel.

*Upon reading this post some way removed from when it was written, I think it worth pointing out that it helps to have a working knowledge of Wuthering Heights in order to understand it. Lockwood is the narrator of the book, and Heathcliff's tenant. Isabella is Heathcliff's greatly downtrodden wife.*

No comments: