quiet turbine's hiss, and sleep is gone in the dissonant honking of the wife's alarm. On sick leave all week, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Gone now, those days, days at home. Leaving today and tomorrow.
Get up, get dressed, watch the son eat his cereal, his "müsli", as the swiss would call it. He gets his hat, the one bought in Clonmel, Ireland five years ago. He has a need for it now, his long hair and his hat.
His school bag is heavy with books, and he leaves at quarter to eight. Lucky young lad, school is only a very short distance, only five minutes on foot.
And the coffee grinder the coffee all made, enjoy one large cup, Apilco French china, golden rim. on a suitable saucer. Small pretence of luxury. In the squalor that yesterday was spent in lifting, a partial success.
There is noise from the street resurfacing project at the end of the road. The road is being restyled, wider pavements, no loss of parking spaces, increased amenity value, blah blah. It will turn into one of those projects that please nobody except for the firms that are doing the work. A steady hammering from the compacting machines that are pressing the sand together to take up the fresh layer of Chinese cobblestones.
Tinituss's Hiss, sounding like a gas jet, pressure for nearly everything that requires concentration. Nervous as to what the day will shows.
And now the cat has been petted, Miriam the cat.
Both shoes, orange leather sneakers, have been put on.
And the heavy bag is heaved onto the thin back
and off to school.
Father remains:
Sit there and think- which of the multitude of things is to be done first.
Get up, get dressed, watch the son eat his cereal, his "müsli", as the swiss would call it. He gets his hat, the one bought in Clonmel, Ireland five years ago. He has a need for it now, his long hair and his hat.
His school bag is heavy with books, and he leaves at quarter to eight. Lucky young lad, school is only a very short distance, only five minutes on foot.
And the coffee grinder the coffee all made, enjoy one large cup, Apilco French china, golden rim. on a suitable saucer. Small pretence of luxury. In the squalor that yesterday was spent in lifting, a partial success.
There is noise from the street resurfacing project at the end of the road. The road is being restyled, wider pavements, no loss of parking spaces, increased amenity value, blah blah. It will turn into one of those projects that please nobody except for the firms that are doing the work. A steady hammering from the compacting machines that are pressing the sand together to take up the fresh layer of Chinese cobblestones.
Tinituss's Hiss, sounding like a gas jet, pressure for nearly everything that requires concentration. Nervous as to what the day will shows.
And now the cat has been petted, Miriam the cat.
Both shoes, orange leather sneakers, have been put on.
And the heavy bag is heaved onto the thin back
and off to school.
Father remains:
Sit there and think- which of the multitude of things is to be done first.
No comments:
Post a Comment