Carine Hartman
Chief sub-editor
2 minute read
23 Jan 2021
4:30 am

Another brick in the wall

Carine Hartman

Only the middle, like Cyril, folded totally under the pressure – and the bricks came tumbling down.

Image: iStock.

The Advocate lost my heart – and I blame neither his brown shoes, nor his absence of fuzzy pets. I blame my unfinished shower. That same shower his black robes billowed around my ears about forever: “Tile the walls”; “Who hangs an artwork in the bathroom?”; “You need six mirrors? Really? They don’t even match”. And my personal favourite: “Where’s the roof?” It’s the roof that was the nail in my heart’s coffin. I like my Banksy prints, thank you, and my mismatched mirrors hanging all over the place in empty frames – and who needs tiles when the oxide walls...