19 February 2016
sound in the dark, the alarm from the mobile telephone, the seaside melody. And when it has been shut down, take off all the night clothes and go into the bathroom.
shave and shower.
The cat is like a wraith in the dark, rubbing it's head against legs of humans and legs of chairs.
Use the wife s hairbrush, for the other one has been stolen by the son. Well, not stolen. Borrowed, and not put back.
The street is dim and dry, it seems darker than it usually is. Maybe there is no mist scattering the light from the lamps, may be one of the lamps has broken. Do not know. There is a digger in front of the neighbours house, they have torn up the street for some purpose or other. The Friday market is setting up again in front of the church, blocking the entrance to the store selling clothing, stylishly ignorant, overpowering.
The man in the plastic tent surrounding him and his stall is arranging sausages for sale. Pass the young women walking up the street, modishly monkishly cowled in the hood of her winter jacket, pass through the gate.
Dolores and the bog cotton man are waiting, she sitting like a ruminant and him smoking under a lamp. No others today.
The smoker in front of the station, big grin, short sleeves and a pigtail.
There are others hanging around here too. Up the stairs, and in to the cafe . By Blondy is on service again, she is effusively. in good humour today. But as inefficient as ever. Hedgehog and Moustachio! exchanging jokes, Moustachio! and BB in ribald conversation. Loud, insufferable.
Finally, out on the platform, watch the train come in slowly, a training run today, with instructors in the driver's cabin. It stops, and see a few old men in the train trying to open the still-locked sliding doors. They panic has these fail to open and the train moves on. They do not know that this is a coupling manouevre, and believe that the train is moving on.
When the train stops, they get out, noisy, noisy.
sound in the dark, the alarm from the mobile telephone, the seaside melody. And when it has been shut down, take off all the night clothes and go into the bathroom.
shave and shower.
The cat is like a wraith in the dark, rubbing it's head against legs of humans and legs of chairs.
Use the wife s hairbrush, for the other one has been stolen by the son. Well, not stolen. Borrowed, and not put back.
The street is dim and dry, it seems darker than it usually is. Maybe there is no mist scattering the light from the lamps, may be one of the lamps has broken. Do not know. There is a digger in front of the neighbours house, they have torn up the street for some purpose or other. The Friday market is setting up again in front of the church, blocking the entrance to the store selling clothing, stylishly ignorant, overpowering.
The man in the plastic tent surrounding him and his stall is arranging sausages for sale. Pass the young women walking up the street, modishly monkishly cowled in the hood of her winter jacket, pass through the gate.
Dolores and the bog cotton man are waiting, she sitting like a ruminant and him smoking under a lamp. No others today.
The smoker in front of the station, big grin, short sleeves and a pigtail.
There are others hanging around here too. Up the stairs, and in to the cafe . By Blondy is on service again, she is effusively. in good humour today. But as inefficient as ever. Hedgehog and Moustachio! exchanging jokes, Moustachio! and BB in ribald conversation. Loud, insufferable.
Finally, out on the platform, watch the train come in slowly, a training run today, with instructors in the driver's cabin. It stops, and see a few old men in the train trying to open the still-locked sliding doors. They panic has these fail to open and the train moves on. They do not know that this is a coupling manouevre, and believe that the train is moving on.
When the train stops, they get out, noisy, noisy.
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