New Windows

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, in which case, given the way in which it’s been my experience that windows usually function (this is in no way to be taken as an admission of furtive nocturnal voyeurism on my part…..definitely not an admission), it must surely follow then that the soul must also be the window to the eyes.

(Tenuous I know, but it’s with such fuzzy logic that I navigate life).

(Which, no doubt, explains quite a lot).

But hold your horses, I’m not done yet.

For what then does that make the window? The window through which one may peer into the dark recesses of a person’s soul? What of the window in this transaction, this equation, this profoundly intimate conversation between eyes and soul?

What properties must be invested upon the window when it is so used? So exposed to the deepest secrets and the darkest truths.

What then of the window? The window through which one may view a soul?

A person’s soul – or indeed a pub’s soul.

(You knew I’d get there in the end)

Windows which lay bare all.

Windows through which those of us who from time to time frequent the Perryman are gaped and gawped out at, like unfortunately limbed circus freaks, by the bottom feeding, morally bankrupt, intellectually stunted, pond scum who are to be found smoking outside of Taps on a Saturday night.

Windows through which the private becomes the public. The unknown known. The Perryman revealed.

Unmasked.

Fallen.

Which is all to say that I’m not really the world’s biggest fan of the new clear windows in the Taps.

In case you didn’t get that.