Friday 2nd July 2010
Gestation: 40 weeks – DUE DATE
One year ago.
I enter Room Two, locking the door behind me. As I turn, I immediately wish I was in Room One. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting. Maybe that there was going to be some sort of oasis behind these doors, that perhaps the luxury of the women’s maroon counter may have been splashed around a little in here.
But it hasn’t.
It’s just like out there.
Only smaller.
And while I know that Room One would be nothing more than a mirror image of this, all the same, I wish I wasn’t in Brian’s express aisle. The room is triangular in shape, with only enough space for a red plastic couch and a 34cm television.
There is a small toilet through a door off to the side, with a sink and huge roll of paper. I look at the cabinet below, panicking at the sight of a tiny pile of magazines, and no drawers.
There is no bottom drawer.
I pick up the magazines and find that there are four in total: two ‘Ralph’ magazines, one Penthouse, and the final, called “MILFs in Heat”. They are tattered and used, pages are missing and loose, and other pages are folded and stuffed in underneath.
I mean, these things are old.
The television looks like something we had on our first computer, something called a Microbee, which used cassette tapes. I don’t even think they make TVs this small anymore. The rubbish bin – more adequately described as a disposal unit – sits pride of place, right next to the TV. It is three times the size of the screen, and, by the looks, is almost full.
* * * * *
There is a set of instructions laminated to the top of the television. They state:
“Switch TV on (if button doesn’t work, switch on at power point)
Push TV/Video button
Press stop button when finished
If you have any difficulties, please inform reception.”
Yeah right. I’m sure Cheryl is just dying to know.
I turn on the TV. Snow fills the screen, all thirty four centimetres. I press the TV/Video button. I can make out a woman dressed in a nurse’s outfit and a man, if I get close enough. At least they’re keeping it in theme, although she looks nothing like Cheryl without the purple gloves. I try changing the channel up and down, before fully comprehending that this is it. The woman bobs up and down looking bored.
Now, I wouldn’t call myself a porn authority, but this is ridiculous. Two men’s interest magazines, MILFs on heat, a torn and tattered Penthouse, and a bored nurse on a screen slightly bigger than my iPod. I’ve seen more compelling material on daytime television.
This is going to be a challenge.
* * * * *
To be continued…
