I have never understood why that should be such a bad thing. I love dogs, and would have no trouble at all cuddling up next to one in some little kennel. We could look out at the world side by side, and people would leave us alone. It would be a fine thing altogether. Far worse is to be in a normal house, with running water and coal fires and lamplight, where it is warm and comfortable, but where you know that everything you do is being watched and weighed up and you must behave in a certain way, and spend your days under the grey weight of disapproval, and wonder if the cloud will ever lift and you will see a smile again. I like things to be cut and dried and straightforward. If I have been bad, I want a belt on the ear, and then to be forgiven. Or a whack of some kind anyway – one that you can see coming, brace yourself for, and then know that when it is done, it is over. And afterwards it’s all jam and buns again. Pa hits me because he loves me – I know that.
What do You think about The Wolf In The Attic (2016)?
