21.1.16
Drowse, hear the cat calling from outside. Ignore her for now, wait for the alarm clock. The alarm clock does not ring, it shows the wrong time entirely. Perhaps the batteries have run down. No matter, the wife informs that it is seven, and that's all right, as there is a therapy appointment at eight. Time for breakfast, time enough to make some.
The son is getting ready for school, he has filled his bag with his books, And after the coffee, pet the cat, leave the house. There is snow on the sidewalk, clear it away. The neighbour is clearing his snow too. Each has his own area, his own style. Spread some salt and grit, so that no passing pedestrian will come to harm.
And off through the meanwhile-awakened town, pass the church, and along the arcades. Cross the side streets, let the car's stop. They do not have the primary right of way, they need to stop. These are the rules of the road here. Hurry past the fancy shops and the old gaol again, and with minutes to spare enter the therapists horrible building. Up to the top floor and into the room.
Wait.
The man comes out, and says " into number four".This is a small room, with a table and a bench. Pressing and bending the hand, warming it up in a paraffin bath, a sudden pallid coating on the hand, making it corpse like. And further kneading and bending, and advice on what exercises need to be done to advance the healing process.
Then it is over, out into the street, and on to the nearest bus stop.
Wait
admire the snow-clad tower of the gaol and the church spire behind it. All very pretty, but too late for Christmas. The bus arrives, six minutes date, pay the man and take a seat. The ride to the station is different today, it is daylight, there are more people on the streets, the bus is full. It is, after all, ten to nine. The cafe in the station is deserted at this time, most of the traffic has already passed-
The next train is in half an hour, so stand at one of the small tables and drink a large coffee. Commence writing these notes, continue until the train is due. It was only twenty minutes, the time to the platform and the purchase of the coffee, and the consultation of the timetable deducted from the half hour wait.
Wait.
The platform is well populated by old age pensioners, all taking advantage of the cheap day fares. They are slower, some doddering. A Beatles song comes to mind.
All of those elderly couples, taking their amusements, having time all the while to do as they please. The train rolls through the snow covered landscape, passing snow-covered villages, on its way to Freising. There is a man with a dog standing at a tree in the distance. The dog is frisky, The man appears to be urinating against the tree. These are things that are to he seen from a moving train in the morning. Change in Freising, for the local train The service is dysfunctional today, the train stops between it's regular stations and waits.
Wait.
It is waiting for the train from the airport, which is delayed. The driver tells his passengers this, using the trains loudspeaker system. Because of this, there will be a long wait in Neufahrn: the bus will have gone. The distance remaining is too great to be dealt with on foot, it is still four miles.
Wait.
Drowse, hear the cat calling from outside. Ignore her for now, wait for the alarm clock. The alarm clock does not ring, it shows the wrong time entirely. Perhaps the batteries have run down. No matter, the wife informs that it is seven, and that's all right, as there is a therapy appointment at eight. Time for breakfast, time enough to make some.
The son is getting ready for school, he has filled his bag with his books, And after the coffee, pet the cat, leave the house. There is snow on the sidewalk, clear it away. The neighbour is clearing his snow too. Each has his own area, his own style. Spread some salt and grit, so that no passing pedestrian will come to harm.
And off through the meanwhile-awakened town, pass the church, and along the arcades. Cross the side streets, let the car's stop. They do not have the primary right of way, they need to stop. These are the rules of the road here. Hurry past the fancy shops and the old gaol again, and with minutes to spare enter the therapists horrible building. Up to the top floor and into the room.
Wait.
The man comes out, and says " into number four".This is a small room, with a table and a bench. Pressing and bending the hand, warming it up in a paraffin bath, a sudden pallid coating on the hand, making it corpse like. And further kneading and bending, and advice on what exercises need to be done to advance the healing process.
Then it is over, out into the street, and on to the nearest bus stop.
Wait
admire the snow-clad tower of the gaol and the church spire behind it. All very pretty, but too late for Christmas. The bus arrives, six minutes date, pay the man and take a seat. The ride to the station is different today, it is daylight, there are more people on the streets, the bus is full. It is, after all, ten to nine. The cafe in the station is deserted at this time, most of the traffic has already passed-
The next train is in half an hour, so stand at one of the small tables and drink a large coffee. Commence writing these notes, continue until the train is due. It was only twenty minutes, the time to the platform and the purchase of the coffee, and the consultation of the timetable deducted from the half hour wait.
Wait.
The platform is well populated by old age pensioners, all taking advantage of the cheap day fares. They are slower, some doddering. A Beatles song comes to mind.
All of those elderly couples, taking their amusements, having time all the while to do as they please. The train rolls through the snow covered landscape, passing snow-covered villages, on its way to Freising. There is a man with a dog standing at a tree in the distance. The dog is frisky, The man appears to be urinating against the tree. These are things that are to he seen from a moving train in the morning. Change in Freising, for the local train The service is dysfunctional today, the train stops between it's regular stations and waits.
Wait.
It is waiting for the train from the airport, which is delayed. The driver tells his passengers this, using the trains loudspeaker system. Because of this, there will be a long wait in Neufahrn: the bus will have gone. The distance remaining is too great to be dealt with on foot, it is still four miles.
Wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment