day four week forty four year two

mind under the cloud of depressive thoughts.

There is a forty four minute wait at Firing railway station. a coffee in that cafe there, another one on the road, or the tracks, or whatever. They are slow here, btw what •.

White lady has gone to her hugs, in fury at the break in her routine. The imitability of regular service spoils, •, team The local train arrives and rests at its platform .-

And waits.

21 May 2015

get up., no, wake up and disconnect that corrugated hosepipe that feeds air into the nose. No clock has made a sound yet, sleep has been gone for sometime now. Use the bathroom, create a sulphurous stream reeking of denatured asparagus. Return to bed, it is five to five.

The waker beeps three times before it can be turned off. Sleepless Times are here again. Night clothes off, and go to the bathroom again. Turn on the hot shower, to wait for it to warm up. A premature waking occurs, because of the small hand shower being switched on. This sprprays water all over the bathroom too.

Things go wrong of their own accord.

The shower finished, then up the stairs, after dressing of course. There replace the small screw to hold the small mirror in place on it’s pedestal. The room is tidier now, it will be pleasant to work here.

go down the stairs and out into the street. Damp and light grey. Where there used to be a builder’s crane there are now two huge hoppers of plaster. The building site’s store area in front of the house has now vanished it has been removed after Wilder's second complaint.

The streets are wet, a bakers track  has it’s wares unloaded by a bedraggled driver.

Running  later today, and there is a man running ahead. Is he running for the bus? No, it is not that late. The same young woman as yesterday, white boots and down jacket, blue jeans fashionably tight, halts under the town gate, the Landings Gate. She does not unfurl an umbrella today. She lights a cigarette.

Dolores is at the bus stop. The lady looks happy today. She must be in her mid forties.

The bus journey passes in an uneventful rush, and there is no smoker in front of the station. Inside, things are quiet, this is the third day of the strike. People are getting used to it.

Anastasia is short tempered today. She slams the coffee down on the counter. Fast and efficient today too.

The decision to await the following train in the cafe in LANDSHUT was made last night. This leaves tine for a second coffee. Big Blondy is slow, and your Team Leiter jumps in and makes sure that all are served. Sooty-eyed dramatic.

Leave for the platform. The nect train isjamhsmvate company, not bound by the strike.

S race is available in The dining car of the old-ntghe bet of rolling stock.. Small tables, big tables, coffee drinkers. Bay windows give a view of the deep green utterly waked landscape. This innate train does not normal stop in Moos burg, but because of the strike, it does. arriving in the Nation there is a view over the town to the

Saint Catullus church, with its two asymmetric towers. Different height,. different shape. Twins, but not identical.

The ploughed brown fields now have lines of green spots in them, where their crops are noe showing through.

All the rest is growing madly, on account of the plentiful water, increasing warmth and the light.

And so the day begins, yet again. Another working day.