“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)