W4Y2D1

11.8. 2014

Dark outside, no watch on.

cloud cover, four forty five,

computer shows the time.

Check email.

Bedroom, flues cetin.

Winter light in the middle of summer.

And rain. Find coat.

No socks?

Mental drift, gather the parts that are to help make up the day.

The road is dark and wet, warm. Past the illuminated entrance of St Martins, all these stone figures looking out in admonishment, warning passersby to be good.  Low clouds and darkness, exact change for the his driver, alone at the bus stop. The bus arrives, and its radio plays ""Tell me why I don't like Mondays"!

No smoker at the glistening wet yellow square today, the station doors all wide open to let some air

in. The cafe girl serves. coffee, and there is no one there but ¡ Moustachio! and then later the black-haired handbag girl.

The butterbrazen is a slimy mass of butter and paper napkin in its paper bag.

Pick it  all apart and eat anyway. Wipe the fingers on the dean part of the napkin.

- Go for the Train at six, remember to take the rain coat off before boarding.

People with large suitcases on wheels trying to find pace for these encumbrances. In days gone there would be overhead baskets and baggage: racks. Now the stuff is a tangle between the seats..

The train goes more or less on time, along the sombre country line.
With the run risen behind the clouds there is more light, but it is flat, dim, and lifeless.'

A winters light on a summer morning.