B. Johnson - House Mother Normal

In this incredible book, B. S. Johnson experimented with formatting to represent the mental decay (and rich inner lives) of his characters. Though care has been taken to remain faithful to his vision, inconsistencies across digital reading systems mean that this e-book's layout will vary by platform.

We have taken Johnson's line breaks as intentional and treated them as poetry, applying hanging indents when a line breaks over the edge of the device screen. If many lines in the text break in this way, consider reading in landscape mode or lowering your device's font-size setting.

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Friend (I may call you friend?), these are also

our friends. We no longer refer to them as

inmates, cases, patients, or even as clients.

These particular friends are also known as NERs,

since they have no effective relatives, are

orphans in reverse, it is often said.

You may if you wish join our Social Evening,

friend. You shall see into the minds of our

eight old friends, and you shall see into my

mind. You shall follow our Social Evening

through nine different minds!

Before entering each of our old friends’ minds

you will find a few details which may be of

interest to you. A CQ count, for instance, is

given: that is, the total of correct answers

which were given in response to the ten classic

questions (Where are you now? What is this

place? What day is this? What month is it?

What year is it? How old are you? What is

your birthday? In what year were you born?

Who is on the throne now — king or queen?

Who was on the throne before?) for senile

dementia.

You find our friends dining, first, and later

singing, working, playing, travelling,

competing, discussing, and finally being

entertained.

Sarah Lamson age 74 marital status widow sight 60 % hearing 75 % touch 70 % taste 85 % smell 50 % movement 85 % CQ count 10 pathology contractures; incipient hallux valgus; osteo-arthritis; suspected late paraphrenia; among others.

… not like this muck, they give us muck, here, I made him

a proper dinner, gave his belly a treat after all that Gas,

but he could hardly eat, the poor boy, what I put before him

was faggots in a lovely gravy, it was something special I

made, for him, just for him, then, not like this slimy brown

muck they slosh on everything here, can’t think why they do

it, what the point is, not on my life, no. And

I could see his eyes light up as he saw it, it was really

like being at home for him, that’s when he realised it, for

the first time that first day, I think.

But then he couldn’t eat it, the first mouthful and he

was sick, he had to rush out the yard to the carsey and I was

left — Now what’s she done wrong? Mrs Ridge

in trouble again, she asks for it, she must like the twitcher,

really. I could hear him in there, standing

at the door as I was, looking at them faggots and the new peas

I’d shelled that morning, and thinking of the butter I’d

mashed his taties with and how little Ronnie had had to go

without for a week, though I gave him his Dad’s later, he

did enjoy it, that day, for his tea.

And when he came in from the yard you could

tell he was that ill, by his colour, and he asked me to come

up and lie on the bed with him, and I did, though it was just

after midday, and he just sort of lie

there, with his eyes shut and his face all

tight,

without bothering to turn down the counterpane to rest

his head on the pillow, and it was greasy with brilliantine

or something suchlike, but I couldn’t say anything could I?

Not that he touched me, he lie there with his hands crossed

across his belly, like he was dead already, not touching me,

just wanting me near him, he said, to feel I was there, and

I don’t think he could have done anything with me anyway,

then, it was months before he was a real husband

to me again, ah.

Clear

up, clear up, it’s all on the hurryup in this place.

Now what’s she

saying, how can you be quiet about clearing up knives and

forks, how can anyone? Though these cardboard plates

can’t make any noise, because if — Here, Ivy, no, I

haven’t finished yet! Last scrapings of this muck,

muck they give us here, but I’m hungry, there’s nothing

else, nothing. There. I’ll walk, at least I can still

walk, though that means she makes me do the running about.

I have to clear up and wait on the others, these bent forks

and knives, the knives not sharp at all, down here, I’m

not washing up today, the sitters can at least do that,

sitters can — Now Mrs Bowen’s knocked her plate down,

now she’ll cop it. Yes.

Her and that

dog, shouldn’t be surprised if House Mothers aren’t

really supposed to keep pets, could write to them about

it, her and that bloody great dog

Get on with it, help Ivy, get on.

She won’t get

it done sooner by shouting at me, I go as fast as I

can, yes I do, can’t go any faster.

Nearly done.

There, at last that’s done, sit down again, next to

Charlie, later I’ll get round him for a cigarette, I

know he’s got some. Oh, not

that song again. What good does it

do?

Better sing, though, don’t

want to cross her again, no.

The joys of life continue strong

Throughout old age, however long :

If only we can cheerful stay

And brightly welcome every day .

Not what we’ve been, not what we’ll be ,

What matters most is that we’re free:

The joys of life continue strong

Throughout old age, however long .

The most important thing to do

Is stay alive and see it through :

No matter if the future’s dim ,

Just keep straight on and trust in Him:

For He knows best, and brings good cheer ,

Oh, lucky us, that we are here!

The most important thing to do

Is stay alive and see it through!

Well, I suppose it

pleases Her, at any rate.

Listen to

her now, work, work, I’ve known nothing else all

my life, who does she think she’s taking in?

Good deed indeed, she must make something out

of all this, though it’s not sweated labour by

any manner of means, I will say that for her, it’s

not arduous, and she can’t get much for these

Christmas crackers they make, wonder who does

the fillings, the mottoes, we used to enjoy

crackers that Christmas before he went, there was

an old-fashioned Christmas if you like, it snowed

that year it did, very unusual for London to snow

on Christmas Day, don’t remember any other years

it happened, in fact, and how it changed the look

of everything, people started acting differently,

too, people you knew only to nod at suddenly