“The very day the house was bought they began to see flaws in it. The staircase was dangerous, the upper floor sagged; there was no back door; most of the windows didn’t close; one door could not open; the celotext panels under the eaves had fallen out and left gaps between which bats could enter the attic. They discussed these things as calmly as they could and took care not to express their disappointment openly. And it was astonishing how quickly this disappointment had faded, how quickly they had accommodated themselves to every peculiarity and awkwardness in the house. And once that had happened their eyes ceased to be critical, and the house became simply their house.” (Naipaul, 1969: 12)