Maarten's room: door & telly

Above the stove hangs a television, once proudly modern but now clinging to the wall like an ungainly relic. Its armature is bolted into the crumbling brickwork that looks too fragile to hold it.

Beside the telly, shelves rise high with compact discs, their spines a riot of titles.

Still higher, a shelf above the door groans under boxes of floppy disks, coiled cables, and half-forgotten parts. It seems the habit of storing electronics has spread even into the rafters.

The door itself stands open, revealing the landing beyond. On its wall hangs a large portrait of Einstein, staring wisely beneath the criss-cross of washing lines strung overhead. The impression is of a life lived at once in study, in music, and in glorious clutter.