The wind whips away another layer, stripping back my shame for the world to see.
I live in a crumbly old house which is, literally, falling down around my ears. The problem is I can't afford to fix it, and I can't afford to move. Of course, 'Tales' knows many people in this world don't have a roof over their heads, and is grateful to live in beautiful countryside, but I never imagined I'd be such a source of consternation to my neighbours.
They are lovely neighbours, and rescue me from many a disaster, but the sight of them shaking their heads together over the dodgy plaster falling off my house, has left me rattled and ashamed. I know they despair of the unkempt vibe generated by my being supremely useless at practical, 'householdery' tasks. Thing is though, the falling plaster has actually made quite a nice hole, shaped, interestingly, like the outline of France. Every time the wind blows, a little bit more falls off.
I am single-handedly lowering the tone of the neighbourhood... Oh well, it's a tough job, but someone has to do it!