1984
Chapter 4
Heeven,seemingalmosttofadeoutofexistenceashedidso,addedthatthereweretwoentriestothehouse,oneofthemthroughthebackyard,whichgaveonanalley.
Underthewindowsomebodywassinging. Winstonpeepedout,secureintheprotectionofthemuslincurtain. TheJunesunwasstillhighinthesky,andinthesun-filledcourtbelow,amonstrouswoman,solidasaNormanpillar,withbrawnyredforearmsandasackingapronstrappedabouthermiddle,wasstumpingtoandfrobetweenawashtubandaclothesline,peggingoutaseriesofsquarewhitethingswhichWinstonrecognizedasbabies’diapers. Wheneverhermouthwasnotcorkedwithclothespegsshewassinginginapowerfulcontralto:
Itwasonlyan’opelessfancy.
ItpassedlikeanIprildye,
Butalookan’awordan’thedreamstheystirred!
They’avestolenmy’eartawye!
ThetunehadbeenhauntingLondonforweekspast.Itwasoneofcountlesssimilarsongspublishedforthebenefitoftheprolesbyasub-sectionoftheMusicDepartment. Thewordsofthesesongswerecomposedwithoutanyhumaninterventionwhateveronaninstrumentknownasaversificator. Butthewomansangsotunefullyastoturnthedreadfulrubbishintoanalmostpleasantsound. Hecouldhearthewomansingingandthescrapeofhershoesontheflagstones,andthecriesofthechildreninthestreet,andsomewhereinthefardistanceafaintroaroftraffic,andyettheroomseemedcuriouslysilent,thankstotheabsenceofatelescreen.
