the wakener wakes. It is dark, really dark today. 'Tablets first today the big pill and the little one too.. The shower, the toilet, it all works today.
Leaving the house Five Thirty, and sees that there is plastering to be done at the entrance, on the inside. Oh well, there is no rest for the wicked..
The church is visible, the bulders crane and the filth from the building site too.
Dolores is at the bus step, she appears to be ruminating. As the bus rolls in she drags herself away from the shelter to the stop, dressed in herknitted hat and leopard-shin patterned handbag. Short and fat.
At the station, nearly overlook the pigtailed man smoking in the dark, because the sudden noise of a
Mercedes hitting the kerbstones hard .
Good morning.
Anastasia, the adrette, unsmiling strict today. little discount card is full, the coffee is free.
Italian joe, the hedgehog, are both there today. The television runs without sound, high upon the wall. all enjoying a quick break, maybe even a short chat, before they have to leave for the platform.
The man walking ahead through the Tunnel passes wind. Thus proceed in a near noxious cloud that reeks of intestinal putrefaction.
all things pass, and the train arrives.
The pills and the coffee start to work in the train, head swimming in an area of hissing noises, voices of the smoker with the pigtail talking to his companion, the man in the seat opposite smells of some unsubtle aftershave which- would knock out a large ruminant fifty yards against the wind.
Tomorrow is Friday, the end of the week...
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