There’s a scene in the TV show Home Improvement where Tool Time Tim’s wife Jill insists on talking to him as she walks into another room, her words becoming increasingly harder to make out.
This is a scenario which is played out at least once a week in our house.
“By the way, did you remember to…” A’s voice trails away as she leaves the room we’re both in and walks into another.
“What? I didn’t catch that last bit.” I raise my head slightly higher, straining to hear anything over a spinning washing machine and noisy kettle about to reach boiling point.
“I said, did you remember…” A’s voice rises but as she’s still walking in the opposite direction from where I stand I can’t make out the rest of the sentence.
“I still can’t hear you,” frustration creeps into my voice and I add. “I can’t hear you because I’m standing in a room full of noise and you’re three rooms away.”
“Well I can hear you,” comes the equally vexed reply. “The real issue is you’re a bit deaf.”
The real issue is I struggle to make out words spoken from the other side of a series of barriers consisting of thick, stone walls.