cold and ordered

the rushing of the Dodder river outside the window, the river flowing on to Ballsbridge. Relaxed sound of the water falling over a weir.
A friends house in Dublin, on the river side, not of the big river Liffey, but of the little Dodder.
It is seven in the morning, all are still sleeping, two boys and their parents, old friends.
Seven magpies in the trees on the other side of the roaring dodder, the window was open all night to let the sound in.
Seven magpies, a crow, a couple of pigeons.
And the weather is lovely and clear, clean and bright.
All is quiet outside.
between Rathfarnham and Terenure.
The post woman delivers the mail, and as she turns her back the dogs begin to bark. The two spaniels, brown and white.
Get up, wash the face, dry it and get dressed.
There is only April Fools day, and Lornas wedding day left of this holiday, then it will be over and a return to the cold and ordered Landshut.

his land, his stream and his garden

action stations from the sons alarm across the room, he has forgotten to turn it off, now it is six forty five in the morning, it is dark, frost outside the window in the light from the window. A cold morning.

the son remains in bed.

Take a shower, wash the hair, brush the teeth.

Find all the clothes for the day, the day in Dublin. get ready.

Dawn is brightening the windows now, the country outside is covered in a white dusting of frost. 

The son asks for his Latin to be heard, his vocabulary to be checked. He gets no further than fifty per cent, there is so much to learn.

And then dressed, the kitchen, a cup of instant, a clear blue dawn sky outside, a blue sky over a frosted landscape.

The mind will not work, it will not clear the muddied vision of an early morning.

Muddiness muddy unclear, tinnitus hiss. A gas jet in the back of the head, the silver computer in the kitchen, the door unsealed of it's dog-restraining seals, read and write, get this work done.

The children are all up now, looking at games, dressed in day clothes, dressed in night clothes. Playing games on gadgets, eyes fixed, thumbs and fingers working away.

the brother comes in , makes his cup and sits down at his seat by the window, looks out over the stretch of his land, his stream and his garden.

The light is brighter now, and it is time to move.

wake in the dark, dark dark drinks last night disturb the sleep in the morning. bathroom, shave with hot water from the tap, bathroom ensuite, very comfortable, but the shower stays cold.
Too soft for a cold shower first thing in the morning. So leave it, leave it be for today.
It is eight in the morning, local time, and the morning dew has frozen outside leaving the landscape powdered, a desaturated green. The son is in bed, sleeps on, he is getting used to his Irish holidays, and that is good, good for him.


litotes



the brothers son is on the couch consulting his tablet computer, bright figures changing position rapidly on the screen, altered positions, different moves, pictures of explosions, a game in fashion now and to be forgotten soon for another.
The method learned in the game may remain, that is the danger of such games perhaps, perhaps it is the training of the reflexes to do things that would otherwise never be done.

Clear the table of last nights bottles four, and put the dirty dishes and cutlery into the dishwashing machine. Boil water for coffee, instant, and make a cup.

These notes written in front of a window looking out onto a small piece of Irish landscape, green barked mossy trees, and rushes growing in the middle of a field where it turns wetter, not fully recovered from the bog that it had been a long time ago.

The light is brighter now, and it is time to move.

The family is awake, it is ten in the morning now.

conscious, consciousness for at least half of the mind, hiss. Watch the son getting up from his bed, he is in a hurry to see what his cousins are up to today, all is okay. Stop him putting on the shirt that he has been wearing for the past few days now. Yellow, grimy and with small remains of meals, stained.
It needs to be washed.

He is up, and gone. get up, look at the trousers that were soaked in the sea yesterday, that is the way that things should not go. The aversion of an anticipated danger that, in fact did not materialize, rush around the bend through the water into the unseen cave behind the rocks get the children out. NOW.
Panic and fear the tide rising, coming in quickly, entrapment before you know it, waves coming in soak the feet the legs, such wet water.
The trousers are wrinkled today, salty, dry. The boots in the corridor are still soaked, the newspaper helps, it will dry them in time.
In the kitchen the children playing at their games, beeping to each other.

Put on the kettle and clear away the dishes, empty the dishwasher. Talk to the brother freshly risen.
The family is awake, it is ten in the morning now.

Life in Ireland is very much more relaxed than it is in Germany.

The hills are heather violet and capped with white clouds.

late, sore throat, rougher voice. Morning of a progressing cold, memories of a long drive in the now ended night. From Abbeyleix  to Lismore, country roads, boy racers courtship rituals in the hills, driving past all the bright coupés with their lowcut spoilers and their fog lamps on.

A bright morning, the son is up and standing beside his bed, looking out of the window, putting on his clothes for the day, turns around runs out, to his cousins

Stay sleeping, resting letting the cold have its way, hoping it will begone,  soon soon.


Wake later, the clocks have lost an hour, it is easter sunday,  the dogs are excited, the brothers wife is going to church with her sons, the elder one has a long face, complains of boredom.
the son himself in front of silver machine apple computer playing a game with a jumping penguin.

Good morning, and it is a quarter  to 12..

They changed the clocks last night, in the early hours of Easter Sunday.

Later the sun will come out and they will hunt for eggs in the wet grass.
The hills are heather violet and capped with white clouds.

let it talk let it drip

pit
pit apat
pita pat
pitapat plop

pita pata
pita plop
plap.

the rain outside may be trying to say something in the dark.
let it talk let it drip.

Sore throat heavy head, cold.
Cold and wet, irish air in it's dampest form, puddles outside on the path.

Daffodils now visible outside, it is light, son gets up, watch him get up get dressed,
He takes a blanket and covers his father, to get the better of the cold infection, a few sympathetic words and he is off to join his cousins

Get up, take a shower, the shower cold for a long long time, the time that it takes the watet to get from the boiler to the shower head, to warm up the pipes.

Wash the body, warm water makes the cold bearable.
The brother is in his study,

Sit down at the kitchen table and watch the clouds down over the hills, the green grass and the gorse flowers, dull yellow today because of the almost fully diffused dim light.

Pit a pi ta ta pi.

with the brother

bright day, harder light, wake, see the son rise, the sun has risen some time ago. Sore throat and tinnitus' hiss, backache.
But it is a loverly day.

The son jumps into his father's bed and cuddles for a while, for a smile. That will all be gone in the next few years – or do teenagers cuddle with their fathers? Maybe, but sure the future will come of it's own accord and in it's own time.

He gets up. tidies away his clothing and runs off to play with his cousins.

get up, walkabout, discuss things with the brother

pouring down out of the grey sky.

Grey overcast sky, sleep is past, but there is no need to get out of the warmth of the blankets just yet. Grey even light from the low clouds, gentle shadows in the room. Go to the bathroom, brush the teeth with that electric toothbrush which starts flashing a red light as soon as the pressure is too great. Technical advances in even the most simple of things. Bluetooth registration of yellow tooth status sent by way of the internet to the local health insurance people so that they may make sure that commitments to health care are being maintained. Things are not that way yet, just wait.

return to the bed, sort out the clothes for the day, see all the scratches on the arms. The brambles yesterday, clearing a patch of brambles using a slash hook, for the first time in many many years.
The brambles put up a fight, and will win in the end.
They will grow back.
and they will be stronger!
The network of scratches on the arms are ugly now, but they will heal in time.

Get up, grab the silver apple, and go on to the kitchen, sit down, check mail.

The son comes in, hair tousled, and sits down.
Gets up, gets cereals.
He needs help with the milk
The lid is fixed, is sealed too tightly. His fathers hands are still stronger than his eleven year old fingers.


The brother's sons come in and sit down, they are more than half asleep, sit down on the warm chairs and look out of the windows at the rain pouring down out of the grey sky.

Make a cup of instant, warm and bitter.
Listen to the children play, as the hiss in the right ear escalates to a whistle. Like static on an old, pre-digital radio.

A roll of white paper outside the door,

Bad sleep for no real reason, ate too late, worry too much.
Get up, still dark, go to the bathroom and take a shower. Takes so long to warm up, then it is warm.Wash the body of last weeks grime, use the hot water to take a shave too Lather the face with Wilkinson's gel, rub it in and use Gillette's three bladed razor to take down the stubble grown since Saturday.

Here since Saturday, relaxation setting in. Long sleepers all, but for the children. After the shower, see that the son has left his bed, find the clothing for the day, put that on.

Go to the kitchen, the two younger boys are playing chess. Wooden pieces, a wooden board, moving manually, no electronic beeps. Just the tapping noise of the wood on the board as a piece is moved.

Put on the kettle for a coffee, cup of instant as is usual here in the Emerald Isle.
The older one comes in from his bedroom, starts to jeer at the others, and then he runs off to the bathroom.
In an early morning hurry, all in a flurry.

Screams and shouts down the distant corridor, calls for help.

A roll of white paper outside the door,
solves that problem.

nobody else's business

dogs bark, down the corridor in the hallway. The window shows early dawn, no frost, cloudy sky and back to bed again after a short visit to the bathroom, ensuite, toute suite.
and later again, dogs bark agian, seven thirty, bathroom, brush the teeth and wash the face. put on the day clothes, change of socks and so forth.
The son is awake, hair like Medusa, still asleep fifty fifty, feels the coolness of the air and drops and receeds  back under his covers, a soft snail seeking protection from the cold and not from being eaten.

Clothes on and leave for the kitchen, take this silver apple too. There is news from the brothers in Dublin, bad news, more questions to answer, fewer answers to be made.
Family, not friends.

think of the son and the brothers sons, the younger of the two comes out and greets the son all hugs and embraces.

Nice.
they settle down to work, playing their computer games, discussing, comparing, showing, showing off. English is the language, the son has learned more in two days than in the weeks before.

More than school learning.


Make the Instant, greet the brother as he comes in.
Start this blog, start a discussion. That is it , stop the blog, discuss.


And now it is ten fifty, and the kids are playing in the sitting room discussing games. Talking chattering, faster and faster.
And the tinnitus is in full cry, time for the pills again.
Time for the cream for the nose, to subdue the infection.
no knowing why the infection is there, the nose has been in nobody else's business.

old now, slow and completely deaf.

Irish dogs bark outside the house, early morning, dawn. Leave the bed to peer out of the window. There is nothing there but the beginnings of frost. All the grass and the trees turned white, the hardcore paths dusted white.
The dogs are silent now, and nothing is moving outside.

Later, it is brighter, the son is gathering his clothes for the day. He sees that his father is awake, and rushes over to give a hug..
Nice.
Then he goes away to play with his younger cousins, minecraft, similar joys, similar toys.

Get up find clothes, follow. Follow some time later, for his hat is on the floor, full of stones from the beach yesterday. He has collected them and now he has left his hat on the floor with the stones in it.
Tidy up a bit, push the suitcase under the bed.

Then down the corridor, hanging up the sons carelessly - strewn coat on the way.

Enter the kitchen, find the brother in distress, an unpleasant email from another brother bothers him.
He is off to his office to answer, leaves his freshly made coffee cooling on the table.
Sit down, help the nephew with that overcomplicated easter toy, a metal replica of Eifel's tower.
The hardly begun day has it's nice points.
already.
Turn on the computer and write this blog.
Watching the brothers young collie dog sitting on the top of a huge heap of earth, now overgrown with yellow and green gorse. He is watching things in the distance, attentive. Standing up, sitting down, always attentive.
Then he plays with a bone, shaking it, dropping it. Picking it up and carrying it away.
The old dog comes in, slowly. Tail wagging, she wants to be petted. She is old now, slow and completely deaf.

the mountains bare.

clear light warm bed silence of the Irish countryside in the early morning. Ensuite loo, irish way. Son slept in his smaller bed across the room. Last night the contents of his suitcase where spread untidily, now they are still spread all over the floor as they where.
He is up,and dressing, he wants to go out to his cousins.

Get up, brush teeth comb hair wash wash wash.
All done.

Go down the corridor, screed floor.
In the kitchen one child playing with a mobile device. Further on, in the sitting room two children in front of the large television playing yet another video game.

Make a cup of instant.
Look out at the clouds hanging low over the mountains.
This is beautiful, the spots of sunlight on the hills in the distance, the sunlight falling through a hole in the clouds.

A grey day, but so different from "the pavements grey", and still unlike William Butlers island


Gorse outside the window, yellow, and the clouds are crawling up the mountain's sides now, leaving the mountains bare.

19.3.16

19. Mark 2016

Wake because of the cat's noise, the cats

complaint. The cat wants ogaco the big bakery

to it's tray: let it out of the bedroom, watch it

grtwouyh the one cat door and then trohroayhn

second. Little cat doors set into the bottom of

the glass doors. It is bright outside, itis six

thirty, today is the day of the flight to cork.

fvbwh to sleep again, no, just to rest. Listen

to the son's alarm go off, an unpleasant honking

noise, Brmh, hark, Bromkhenh.

get up, tgo to daloo, the bashraom, the

bathroom, Put some foam in the face, Wilkinson,

and rutit in. Take the three blade shaver, get

rid of those two days stwhhk.

Return to the bedroom for the seaside melody,

the little mobile telephone sounding for all that

it is worth. Turn it off, the protective case

falls, a plastic part drops off. That is the

end of the protective case, a new one will

need to be bought.

Find clothing for the day, the stuff for the sky is

is the bags, since last night

Mate after fresh, put the remains at

the coffee in a glass, the remains of yesterdays

coffee.

check the bags, check the papers, passport,

all there x to be checked, checked.

The son is still in his sleeping clothes, he is

on the settee watching television. A story

of Penguins, in Central park zoo•

Tell him to get dressed,-get ready.

Ok- and continues to watch the

penguins>$

so watch penguins too, wtitl the

coffee is ready. and then the wife is WP,

the coffee drank and the son is in

his day clothes, checking his tags and

his papers.

. It is a clear blue sky, add and

clear light, and the three af#-, Elton

the street to the car, a small family.

. Two will fly and one will enjoy herself.

buy presents for the children

wakeup alarm sounds, cat activity, noise generally, time to get up. The hours spent in overtime are hours spent at rest now.
The bed is warm, the weather is bright and cold, the cold comes into the flat. Clear blue sky is to be seen over the rooftops.

The activity increases, the son is getting his things ready for school, the big bag, the heavy thing on his back and a strange woollen hat on his head.
The wife pours herself a cup of cold coffee and returns to bed.

Read an article about Trump, describes him as a dangerous man, one who will destroy america and much of the rest of the world. If he is elected. The European dictators have never made anything better in the past, and the ones on the way now on the way to destroying their countries.

Dress and deal with the mail on the computer.
The cat is on the padded green covering of a sitting room seat. She is quiet, it is entirely peaceful.

There is the hum of a computer somewhere, it has been left on.
Tinnitus  hiss is there now too, and cars pass by in the alley outside, the tyres rumbling over the cobblestones.

A few schoolbooks remain on the floor where the son had left them in his hurrry to leave the house.

A sudden wave of tiredness, exhaustion. Now, whilst writing this diary of nothing.
Unfocus, focus, mind wanders, day dreams.

To drink another cup of coffee, and to leave the house, buy presents for the children to be visitied tomorrow.
In Ireland

Found

March

Bleary awakening, no work today. Overtime dissipation, two days, and then Easter Holidays.

The son gets up and gets his things ready for school, and leaves. Get up, get dressed.

The cat is playful, a happy cat.

Find a telephone, speak to the doctor's assistant.

New pills are needed. she will make a prescript n :'leave the house, it is already eight, and walk through the town, watch men digging up the roads in pursuit of pipes. 

It is a cool day, and sunny The space that the car had been left in occupied by another, the wife must have used it and parked it elsewhere.

Continue walking, across the space where the Christmas market takes place in December. it is a sandy place, people use it to play boules on in summer.

Pass all of those restored buildings, and rebuilt nes too, and consider.

Perhaps it is opposite the police station.

It is.

Found!

There is rubbish on the back seat. Take this and place it under the polices' ashtray, the one standing outside the station for waiting addicted policemen.

They will not mind, because they cannot see out. Anyhow, it is not a crime to use a waste bin.

Start  the car, the radio is on. And back out, turn around, do a U-Turn

Drive to the doctors for a prescription.

AU is well today.

last way to work before easter

        . Shower, warm wet, wash the head, the back, the feet.

Holler to the cat, the purring cat.

Fwd clothing in the wardrobe. Pack the computer, it is the last day at work today until the Easter holidays end. gather the keys and the watch, put on the coat and shoes. Leave the house, out into the bleak street, And and and as always, walk past . The shops, asleep and awake. The Turkish man in his Doner shop, looks out dolefully, black moustache, black hair.

Through the arch of the town gate the bus stop is visible, Dolores is in the shelter, the bog cotton man is smoking in the light of the street lamps. His white hair reminds of the tufts of the plant growing on the slopes of Keep pure Mountain.

Dolores has her leopard skin patterned handbag in land, a friendly hallo, a nod. Nobody knows anything about the other, but each must travel the same way at the same

Time

The bus is in, the strange man ahead a playing with his change again, counting coins and passing these on to the bus driver. It is cold today.

The pigtailed smoker is at the station smoking, he is dressed up in his shoots load shut, in some way immune to the cold of the pre-dawn morning.

Yorma's, under the disgusted glances of the turkish women, or Italian,or whatever population they come from. It is plain to see that this is not a job that they want to do, they would rather be at home.

In the cafe, all is as always, the daft silent television slowing people with insanely trimmed bodies demonstrating simple exercises in order to convince the onlooker that they will look just like this if they will only invest in this machinery.

Not a thing to be believed.

A tap on the shoulder, a good morning. and there is the local doctor on his way to a university meeting in Munich. He says

good morning, 

a friendly man. It is never quite clear with these professional people whether or not they will remember you outside of visiting hours in their practice. 

He seems to recognise people outside, his friendliness may be more than just profession

The train is delayed in the station, it has technical problems.

Those seven minutes allow the day to progress, presenting a whitened, frosted landscape of great beauty. A stream at mon onochromatic pictures passing by the trains windows, the rising globe of the sun a red ball in the background 

like every day

15th March, 2016

 Up in the dark, it is only half past four in the morning, pet the purring cat, and brush the teeth, and return to bed.

 The seaside melody puts an end to sleep, take off all the night clothes, and go to the bathroom, followed by the cat. The cat is up early, as every day. 
Let the water run in the shower until it is warm, use up the last of the shampoo and return to the bedroom. Clothe, put on the shoes.

The cat commences chewing the rubberised computer cable. Chase it off, it has destroyed one of these already. Anyhow, who wants to imagine what  would happen if the cat bit through the power cable? The small carnivore's teeth could go straight through. A shock for the cat, literally.

  Go down the stairs, followed by the cat. She clearly indicates that she would like to leave the house, but that is not on, no. Carry her back to the stairs, where she sits and stares.

Down the deserted alleyway, past the Grimm's store, not illuminated today: walk down to the river, to the bus stop.
Goodmrning Dolores, she has a smile today, she looks happy. 

Across the smoothly flowing water the hotel breakfast rooms are brightly lit, they are preparing breakfast whilst their guests are still not awake. The lights reflect in the water, the reflections spread and smeared like some Impressionist painting.

 The man who boards the bus ahead thinks that he is the last to be on board, and commences counting his charge, to pay in small coin. He is surprised to discover that there are people behind him. Write, until the Rosenheim train arrives, a diesel roar on platform one. Pack the pen away.


Walk to the platform, watch the people walk along beside the morning train as it slowly proceeds down the tracks along the platform to couple with me waiting other half of the train.
And when they have coupled, and the doors opened, go on board.
Find a seat, take out the pen and carry on with the story.


 like every day.
14th Mark 296

seaside melody from The bedside, from the telephone

on the bedside table.

Turn that off, stretch put the fetter the floor and

sit up.. Bathroom, too, be slower.

Fud clothing, ret the cat, ivhieh want's€ attention so much the

Find the glasses, don the jacket and wmt

the hair. Time is running out, so leave the

house for the deserted city centre alleyway

Unconsciously walk the streets, there is

noise of conversation again from the discount

bahdty. The manager is talking to his workers

again.

The bus shelter is empty, no one there.

But in a few minutes the boy cotton man

Turns up, and starts to smoke his cigarette.

A runner approaches, passes the Town gate.

As he comes closer see that it is the neighbour

from the house opposite, taking an early rum.

A friendly greeting. He is not usually npp at

this hour. it is twenty to sux in the morning. The smell of the bog-cotton wenis

cigarette becomes unbearable, so move

up wind of the man

That is better.

When the bus is in, board it as the last

person. Pay with two fifty cent coins and

a Ten-cent coin.

Fife stops to the railway station, There

are hundreds of bicycles parked in front of

the station today, the weather is warmer.

Thread a way past them, greet the pigtailed

smoker. He Takes the agarette from his mouth

to wish a good morning.

-.

1 here is yet another woman sewing coffee

and sandwiches at Yerma' s. She is slow,

there is a crowd from those freshly-animal

busses, she calls to the kitchen for help the

shaven headed gentleman appears, tales

of his plastic disposable gloves.

And all the people clamouring for their

cafe de wurhu are gone, happy, paper

cups and paper hags in hand.

patent hosepipe.

As soon as the water is turned on

it changes from a wrinkled g matt goon

package wto a long, water-spouting

wgepipe.

An erectile garden metering wptenlm.

What next?

'15th March, 2016

Up in the dark, it is only half past four in

the morning, pet the purring cat, and

brush the teeth, and return to bed.

The seaside melody puts an end to sleep,

take off all the night clothes, and go to the

bathroom, followed By the cat. The cat is

up early, as every day.

Let the water run in the shower untill it is

warm, use up the last of the shampoo and

return to the bedroom.

Clothe, put on the shoes. The cat commences

chewing the rubberized computer cable. Chase

it off, it has destroyed once already.

Anyhow, who wants to imagine what

. would happen if the cat hit the power cable?

The small carnivore's teeth would go

straight through.

Go down the stairs, followed by the cat.

She clearly indicates that she would like

to leave the house, but that is not on, no.

carry her back to the stairs, where she sits and

stores.

.

Down the deserted alleyway, past the

Grimm's store, not illuminated today: walk

down to the river, to the bus stop. Goodmr-

ning Dolores, she has a smile today, she looks

happy.

Across the smoothly flowing meter the

hotel breakfast rooms are brightly lit, they

preparing breakfast whilst their guests are

still not awake. The lights reflect in the

ureter, the reflections spread and smeared

like some Impressionist painting.

The man who boards the bus ahead thinks

wot he is the last to be on board, and

ummenws counting his charge, topaz in

small coin. He is surprised to discover

that there are people behind him.

Write, untill the Moogbury-Rosenheim

arrives, a diesel roar on Malform one.

Pack the pen away., and proceed to the

platform, watch the people walk along

beside the morning train as it slowly

proceeds down the tracks along the

Mgd±h3nfmg6n triple with me waiting myt

And when they have poured, and The

doors opened, go on board. Find a seat,

and carry on with the story.
the every day.

An erectile garden watering hose.

14th Mark 296 seaside melody from The bedside, from the telephone on the bedside table. Turn that off, stretch put the feets the floor and sit up.
 Bathroom, too, be slower, take a shower. Find clothing, pat the cat, she  want's € attention so much::

 Find the glasses, don the jacket and comb the hair. Time is running out, so leave the house for the deserted city centre alleyway.

Unconsciously walk the streets, there is noise of conversation again from the discount bakery. The manager is talking to his workers again.
The bus shelter is empty, no one there. But in a few minutes the bog cotton man turns up, and starts to smoke his cigarette.
A runner approaches, passes the Town gate. As he comes closer see that it is the neighbour from the house opposite, taking an early rum. A friendly greeting.
Hi Gurgle
He is not usually up at this hour. it is twenty to six in the morning. The smell of the bog-cotton mans cigarette is murder. Go upwind to avoid the smell of smoked clothes and exhaled tobacco smoke.

The bus comes and takes us to the station, a five stop journey.
At Yormas a slow service person panics at the crowd of people suddenly in from the busses just arrived.
Calls for help, and the bald headed man comes out of the kitchen, takes off hisplastic gloves (are they to protect his hands or to protect the food?).
The crowd melts, he has learned from Anastasia, who has not been here for some time.

The man called Hedgehog is not at his usual place under the television. This is showing advertising footage for a  patent hosepipe. As soon as the water is turned on it changes from a wrinkled tangle, a soft looking greeng package into a long, water-spouting hosepipe.
An erectile garden watering hose.
What next?

To work tomorrow, three days only

Sunday morning quiet, completely silent. Hiss of the mask awakens from torpor, noise of the cat does the same. The mask hisses because one of it's straps had come undone. Velcro stops working after time.
Deteriorates.
Things are so much better than yesterday, yesterday a horror of questions unanswered and jobs undone. A night sleep improves so many things, new words learned in new languages return from the darkness in which they have sunk to remain unseen and unheard.

Maybe a trip to Lisbon will be possible.
Posso.
Next year, or the one thereafter.

Sleep is a good thing, for the body and the mind
It is a grey day
again
but it does not matter.

The old writing table is finished, complet with all of its cupboards and shelves.
good.


To work tomorrow, three days only

The past, which is dead done, dead, done, done and dusted.

bad night, on account of wine last night. Paranoia, thoughts on self destruction, on suicide. A black night. The feeling of being drawn to something, yet knowing that this is no good, no solution.
And there is no need for it.
And still a Siren calls, promising oblivion.

A combination of a small pill and a large long evening's drink.
Black night.

Awaken late to tinnitus, go to the bathroom, there is the cat asleep on a chair.
The orchid is alive yet,
No shower today, there is work to be done sanding down something. That is dusty work, a shower will be nice afterwards.

charge up the coffee maker, put on some toast. Let the gas hiss its song to the water bubbling in the dark of the lower part of the coffee pot.
clothes on, and out into the kitchen again in time for the arrival of the fresh brew in the top of the machine.
Gas off, butter the toast, get the computer and sit down in the silence of the living room, the living room table, the ironing board left over from the wife's work yesterday.

Check the mail, all the excitement in America in preparation of Novembers great event.
write these notes,
starting with the mention of  the
bad night, on account of wine last night.

The son is at his machine, a roaring old computer, and the cat has come in to settle on a chair nearby.
A grey saturday outside, one week ahead of the easter holidays, to be spent in Ireland at the brother's place in the south.
look to the future to drive away those demons demanding entry from the past. The past, which is dead done, dead, done, done and dusted.
punctuation – a full stop.

stairs are of granite

the awakening to the sim laud silent 'phone, it is late, twelve minutes late. 

Hurry to the bathroom, wash speedily 'not forgetting to brush the teeth. 

Put all those day clothes on and leave for the street. The cat has remained in the background today,too much to do now, raiding the store of cat food left over from yesterdays shopping. 

The street is cold, and the building site has been moved over to one side at it. The road surface has been repaired with concrete filling, a temporary job. 

see the Friday market stall people setting up for business on the main street. They are shouting at each other as they attend to their stalls. 

The weather is better than usual, the forecast is good, and there  are many moreworking gthan usually on a friday. At the corner by the perfume torture shop  surprised by the same girl as yesterday hurrying around the corner. Her trousers are different today, Has no longer rippy at the knees. She glances up, and then  down again, hurrying on to whatever business she has. 

Dolores and the bog cotton man are at the stop, also a fat woman in a fawn coat. Pass a smoking man, there is a smell of freshly exhaled smoke in the air. This is not a pleasant smell 

When it arrives, board the bus. The man in front has no change, he pay with a large note. This takes time, the bus is late now. 

There are many people in front of the railway station, all surrounding the ash tray. The pig tailed smoker is there too

' good Morning. 

The girl at Yormas is just a bit faster today, dark hair, dark rimmed glasses, serious expression. Some old man gets his stuff, and effusively calls her "Princess" and "Darling".

The cafe stinks of old hard boiled eggs, a strange smell here. Not pleasant at all. 

By the time these notes are written the Rosenheim Diesel has arrived •, and has disgorged it's passengers. 

Go down the stairs, leave the blocked stairwell with the broken lift on the right, and climb up the stairs to the platform. The stairs are of granite, they will last a long time. 

The second half of the train is in, and enter at the first open door. This is the beginning of the last day this week.

Only the freshly ploughed fields are black

10.3. the waking melody barely escapes from the mobile phone. it is so quiet. The volume on the machine was accidentaly turned down yesterday evening. Five minutes late, shower, shave, look at the orchid, pat the head of the attentive cat  There is no time this morning, find clothing in the wardrobe, and brush the hair. check the contents of the carry bag, all is inside that  will be needed today.

 Leave the cat forlorn on the stairwell. She looks sad, her big black eyes staring as she sits erect on the stairs. Cats are very elegant.

 Dry and cold, the weather. There are barriers in the street, the thoroughfare has been blocked by a very large digging machine.  Pick a way around this hindrance, and on past the church.

 At the corner of Mainstreet and church alley walk into two people, one coming from the right, one from the left. A man with a rucksack and a young woman  with ripped knees on her torn jeans. The three of us stop. Look up, and then pick a way around each other. The strange thing about this meeting was that' it occurred at an empty street corner in an empty street. There were no other people about that morning, none at all. Later in the day there are hundreds. Yet by chance the only three people around within centimetres of a collision.

 At the bus stop, Dolores and the bog cotton man. The teacher comes later.
The bus journey, with its five stops, is uneventful.

Smokers square at the station has two smokers, the pig tailed one and some other. The pigtail man says good morning, his  daily morning cigarette, his routine. The cafe is empty, so the young dark haired little service young lady takes her time.
  Oh NO pt No. No. Why not? Five minutes Tolerance and calm. are important... It is difficult. It is important to see the needs  of others. It is necessary not to not just to regard ones own wishes. But where do we stay ourselves? The train, all hustle bustle boarding, people reserving seats for those yet to come. Be polite, there are enough seats.

 And before we reach Freising, The frost dusted landscape is clearly visible,  a grey occluded dawn view.
 'The farmers have prepared their fields for spring, an extreme tidiness everywhere, under the uniform white dusting of the frost. Only the freshly ploughed fields are black, and the houses in the villages have plumes of smoke rising from their chimneys. The plumes all lean to the left, on account of a slight wind'.

roundabout.

Silence this morning, it will be a day to take the car to work, remain resting in the bed until it is six thirty in the morning. The air in the bathroom is cold and the shower is too hot. The orchid is still alive, and looking good.
In the bedroom again, find the underwear for the day and, whilst getting dressed the son comes in, distraught. He has a sore throat and has lost his voice.
Well, tell him to stay calm, he will find it again.
The wife stays in bed, she is unwell.
The cat is confused.


Find the coat the shoes and take the bag and leave the house. Walk up the street and around the corner, to the parking spot of the small blue car. Adjust the seats, to suit my size, start the engine, back out into the street.

Then down the road to the spot where it widens, and turn the car, to go back to the junction, take a right and drive all the way past Saint Jodoks church, to reach the tunnel under the castle.

The bore of the tunnel has walls blackened by the soot from the exhausts of all of the thousands of cars that drive through it every day. It is lit by dim sodium lamps up at its highest point, and there is an emergency exit every fifty metres.  There are also fire points regularly every fifty meters.



Leave that depressing highway to hell, take a left turn, and, after having left the town drive along beside the river. The radio is playing serious music.
Serious music for serious people.
Turn off the noisy ventilator in order to be able to hear better.

No idea - oh- Dvorak?

Ok.
But the were just talking about a 16 year-old who founded a string quartett.
Never mind the radio, the car ahead has just braked, we are reaching a roundabout.

These things happen.

8 March 2016

A deep sleep, ended by the inane melody. 'It is almost a struggle to leave the bed, turn off the alarm, go to the bathroom. The orchid is still there, still alive, enjoying the damp air regularily available in the bathroom. Maybe just thriving, the concept of enjoyment is probably foreign for plants. gather all of the items for the day, pat the cat and leave the house

The streets are greasy wet, the digger has returned to the alley, excavating yet more pipes from under the street, setting up new connections for various houses..

The colour of the lamps is greenish, mercury lamps, to change further on into the red of sodium lamps. The sodium amps in the Theater street are very monochromatic, making it impossible to tell most colours apart.

The manager of the discount bakery is angry this morning, shouting at his employee, There are stacks of empty boxes in front of the shop, waiting for the rubbish collection.

Dolores blends into the arty cut metal decoration  the bus shelter. She is sitting there, waiting. A short glance, a nod. That is all that she is prepared for Today.

The bus driver is businesslike today, does not talk much-That is good.

And seven minutes later, another good morning This time granted by the pigtailed smoker, wearing a baseball cap against the rain, He is in good tumour, This Tuesday.

The servic woman in the cafe is new, a slightly older variety of service, she with a silver ring through her eyebrow. She is slow. and thorough, loud, firm voiced. And she has a lousy memory.

She is helped out later by the shaven headed man, and then everything works more quickly. He serves two, she deals with one.

In the cafe, no Hedgehog, and the television is showing pictures of some novel cleaning hquid, being sold in concentrated form at a very high price.

A. man asks me that his bag he watched, leaving his beer on the table and going out for a smoke.

At six, as the Rosenheim Diesel train  arrives, leave the station and leave his bag alone.

The train is delayed today, six minutes all together. 

These things happen. 

Dawn is past as the train arrives

Return to the bedroom, lights on, and search for fresh clothing, it being Monday today. Find the rubber part for the nose mask under the bed, it had become come adrift from the mask in the night, rendering the mask unwearable.

Check all the items needed for the day, the telephone is almost discharged, it's battery is nearly empty. Attach an emergency battery, this may keep it going. Check the contents of the bag, and leave for the train, the bus. The street is empty and dry, there is a lone silver car parked on the road, waiting for the early morning parking warden's attention. t


he Angel's stump shop, Grimms catlery and kitchen ware, pass in the mornings hurry. Mustafa's Kebab and the discount bakery, side by side. Bog cotton smoking, Dolores gives a nod of recognition.

When the bus arrives, the bog cotton man first, he pays with a big note. The driver takes his time giving change, the waiting passengers block the pavement, and a cyclist forces his way through the knot of people.


 The pigtailed smoker is at his usual salon at the ashtray-cum-waste bin thing in the middle of the railway station forecourt. He gives his morning greeting, it is returned Another one of those regular phenomena.

 The cafe service is slow, but seems  faster today than last week. They are learning.

They may, however, never reach Anastasia's tempo, she had the order ready before it was made.

 The cafe is empty, no Hedgehog under the television set showing pictures of people pumping iron. 





Board the train, as every day, and make these short notes. Let the train drive into the growing day. Dawn is past as the train arrives in Freising.

Remember

peaceful grey morning light, sunday,
Cat makes noises, it is sunday, the noises are the same as any day.
Get up, bathroom, wash the teeth, wash the face, oh shower later.
Sunday. Grey, peaceful sunday.

The cat has vomited on the sitting room floor.
This is the beginning of  what may turn out to be one of the strangers days.
Clear the mess up, thankful that the schoolbooks on the floor went unscathed.
The animal watches, curious. Unknowing of the saying "curiousity killed the cat".

The sons alarm sounds, getting up early seems important to him.

Make a cup.
Empty the Bialetti of it's old grounds.
Yesterdays coffee, still damp, into the biological waste bin.
Clean out the aluminium can, and fill the coffee grinder.

And then put the fresh ground coffee into the machine.
Think of Bewleys in Dublin, with their French Roast, roasted black in the shop window in Grafton Street.
No comparison
Put the coffee maker onto the gas,
and wait.


The son turns on the television, watches cartoons of penguins.
Amusement.



Drink the sunday morning coffee, and send these notes out for any to see.
Remember : Finish restoring the writing table,
Remember : Tidy away the now-functioning camera,
Remember : Go for a walk

The living room needs cleaning.

as if there were a belt around the chest, take in breath, slight pain.
Bom Dia!
this is strange, sore back, tight chest. It all waits for the weekend, perhaps this is an indication of something.
Good Morning: Maybe another year of learning will let me understand some Portuguese, but until then – snippets of language.

Get up, dress to go – in weekend clothing, informal hoodie.

Keep moving until the back pains go, until the chest pains go, make coffee, tidy up the kitchen just a bit. The son is talking to his friends using his computers, explaining things, talking away, happy as Larry as people used to say.
He barely has time to say good Morning, he is so busy. Nerd, as the americans would say.
The wife remains in bed a while longer.
It is weekend, and there is not a lot happening.
Yet.

Fill the dishwasher, put in the detergent, and press the appropriate buttons. And the tinnitus on the right hand side of the head is enough to drive anyone crazy, a constant hiss from some kind of ether, a hiss that does not exist, a signal disturbance.
The son opens the door to his room, and the sound of the ventilator on his old computer joins the tinnitus' hiss.
And the wife is off to the Saturday flea market.

The living room needs cleaning.

Hedgehog remains impassive.

L4.3.16

Wake in the night, be wakened then by the telephone

The cat is up,

Take a shower, take the pill. The cuts from the mishap with the shaver are healing. slow

processes.

The bag is packed, so oft, down the stairs.

The cat is downstairs, she makes an unhappy impression. She is just sitting there on the trapdoor

to the cellar. Walk over to give her a pat, and she runs away.

Cats.

The letter box has been filled with advertising.

Empty that, have room for mail later

The market is being set up early, it is Friday. This

is the last day of the week, all the market sellers with their delivery trucks, and the man in his transparent stall slicing sausages again.

The bus stop, Dolores, the bog cotton man, the man who talks to the bus drivers.

The bus finally reaches the station, having

            left Dolores at her stop,
            and the chattering young man at his.

Wish the pigtailed smoher good womig and go on into the cafe. That unbearably slow girl is working again, perhaps she will be here for a longer time now.
The counters have lost Their shine, it seems not to be so important any more.

Hedgehog

↳ at his usual place, and is joined by a

young man eating a local delicacy -

LEBERKASSEM Me l", and drinking coffee.

Hedgehog remains impassive.

There is no joy today, and there will be

trouble at work.

3 Dark then OK

3 Dark.
 Up, bathroom There is a purring in the dark. A sound of cat, she can see, the humans can not-The shower cold, then hot. And a sore heavy head with bad loud hisses in one ear When washed and dressed for the day, sit and stroke the cat, now purring on the knees of it's human.

 Sits and purrs.

 Get up, put shoes on, and then, at half past, go out into the street.
They are entwining their continuous digging activities here, but not at this early hour. There are just silent street barriers painted in red and white, with large round beacons. The town is quite deserted, empty of people, quiet and dry. The perfume shop is still encased in hoardings, they must be rebuilding it completely inside. At the bus stop a car belonging to some social service, stops and Dolores runs over to talk to the driver. They seem to know each other. The bog cotton man arrives, and the other one who always talks to the bus driver.
Today, the bus arrives early, and needs to wait for some five minutes at the bus stop.
Today presents itself behind what is almost a curtain of nausea and tiredness It may have to do with those two glasses of wine last night, it may just have to do with an incomplete sleep experience.
Fall asleep on the bus, for a five minute snooze, and only wake up at the station, exit the bus last. The smoker with the hair in a pigtail is his usual breezy self, good morning, gutter magen. There is nothing good about it, but be polite anyway, so polite. Yuma's is its usual chaos. Take the coffee at the table opposite to the television and Hedgehog. Itspills out at of an ill-fitted lid. These notes now need to be written around the spots in the copy book.

The train arrives at the platform, groups of people are discussing the 'optimal'  way to board, where to stand so that the train stops exactly so that they only need to press the button to open a door. so that it stops with a door exactly there water they are standing, that they have predicted their perfect board. They can then take over the best of the available seating. This seems to be important to them.

 There are doors every twenty  metres. What difference does it make?

 Remember the man from Africa, singing along to the music on his headphones. In the cafe. Irritating at first, then ignorable, then Ok.

Black

Wakened by the seaside melody, get up., fail to turn off the mobile ´phone, swipe the wrong way.
Despair day, fight the bathroom door's defective door lock, a catchy, ill-fitting thing.
The shower will need to be descaled again, all of these things to be done, sometime. The shower is warm, wash the hair, wash the body, return the un-needed towel to the press.

It is dreary this morning, find the clothing, the wardrobe door jams. When dressed, sit down.
The cat jumps onto the lap, sits there purring.
Sit there for a while with the purring cat.

Then pick up the bag, put on the jacket and leave for the street.

The yellow waste bags are lying at the door post, soaking wet from the cold rain. The rain so cold that it cannot wash away the remainders of the snow left over from yesterday.

Down the alley there are road works, a monstrous digger has made big holes in the pavement.
So what,  it is wet, cold, miserable.
Grim weather.
O Tempo esta gruim- is that right?

Walk on down the glistening pavements, shiny cobblestones underfoot.

Bog cotton head and Dolores are at the bus stop, hello. Oh, just board the bus, anyway, pay the fare, what is the use of all this activity.
The bus man drives, Dolores looks sad.

At the station, the pigtailed smoker is out in the rain, short sleeved, baseball cap, smoking his morning cigarette at the designated smoking space. Getting soaked and not minding.

Get coffee from the slow service at Yorma's Cafe, and go to the table to write, and to sip sop from the cardboard mug.

there is a man singing in the hallway, drunk as a lord. At six on a wednesday morning. A groaning drunkards song. The man is dressed in a painters overalls, Leave for the train, everything and everyone is on time, despite the wetness of the day.


A young woman in black tights climbs the stairs ahead, black tights, black jacket, black bag, black shoes with blonde hair over her shoulders half way down her back.

Black
2 March 2016

Wakened by the seaside melody get up, fail toturn off the mobile phone, swipe the wrong wa.Despair day, fight the detective door look to thebathroom, a catchy i ill-fitting thing.The shower will need to be descaled again, allof these things to be done, sometime. The showeris warm, wash the hair, was k the body, rhimthe van matt un-needed towd to the press.It is dreary this morning, find the clothing,the wardrobe door jams. When dressed, sitdown The cat jumps onto the lap, sits therepurring.sit there for a while with the purring cat.Then pick up the bag, put on the jacket andleave for the street.The yellow waste bags are lying at thedoorpost, soaking wet from the cold rain,so cold that it cannot dtixe#wash away theremainders at the snow left over from yesterdayDown the alley there are roadworks, amonstrous digger making big holes intopavement. so what, it is wet, cold, miserable.grim weather.Tempo esta gminn. Is that right?Walk on down The glistening pavements,shiny cobblestones.Boy cotton and dolores at the bus stop, hello,0h past board the bus anyway, pay the fare,what is the use of all this activity.The bus man drives, Dolores looks sad..At the station the pigtailed smoker is outin the rain, short sleeved, baseball cap,smoking his morning cigarette at the desig­nated smoking space. getting soaked andnot minding.get coffee from the slow service atyma'scafe, and go to the table to write, and gig Ltrouthe cardboard may.There is a man singing in the hallway,drank as a lord. At f@iexonawedn.edumorning. A groaning drunkard's song -The man is dressed in painters overalls.team for the train, everything is ontnetoday, despite the wet. A woman in Uaehtghtsdimly the stairs ahead, black lights, blpeehet, black bag, black shoes, thanblonde hair, shot over her showsBlack.

Some things as every day.

1.3.2016
 seaside melody, and off to the bathroom.
Try to shave, but the disposable shaver is blunt. The result is a silly cut on the upper lip.
Take the daily shower, with a metal taste of blood, the blood flowing from the cut into the mouth. Finish washing, return to the bedroom, put all the clothes on. For some reason, things do not take  as long today, and therefore stand about in the hallway waiting for half past five.

The cat is attentive, hitting it's head against the knees, the legs, and occasionally against the various furniture standing  in the hall. The flashing lights from the son's wlan flash away,  working away to themselves, recieving signals, working on protocols, transferring data.

 Then it is half past five, and time to leave the house. The cat comes along down the stairs but stays in the rear part of the hallway.
It is snowing today, snow that turns to slush underfoot.
It is snowing the heavy snow in copious quantities, the metal surfaces of the digger blocking the street are covered in it, The alley is blocked by a building site.  They have dug up the road yet again, in order to lay pipes for a municipal heating service,
Pass the barriers, and now there are workers spreading salt on the roads, encourageing the already-melting snow to dissolve completely. There is a miniature agricultural tractor racing about, trying to push  the scarcely existent snow off the street and covering everything with salt from the large hopper behind the driver. At the rate at which the snow is melting, the point of all this activity is questionable.
Dolores huddled in the bus stop, hiding from what is now a snowstorm, a very wet snowstorm. The bog-cotton hair man is there, and the officious teacher too.



 The railway forecourt, or plaza, is covered in slush, there is no one there. In the cafe the inexperienced service people attempt to clear the chaos caused by the customers from those two busses which have just arrived simultaneously.

 Hedgehog is at his place and the television is advertising cleaning products again, a miracle liquid that removes burnt fat with no trouble at all.  It is hard to believe. Leave the for the platform,the little Rosenheim train seems to have got stuck in the snow somewhere. Board the train, and off to work. 

Some things as every day.