Tuesday, 6th April 2016 – Seaside melody, walk across the room from the bed to switch it off. Back to bed for five minutes. then get up, to the bathroom, brush the teeth and comb the hair. A shower had already been taken the night before, there is no need to overdo it. search for the watch, a coat, (it is to rain later today).
Find a fresh jacket, and gather the heavy camera bay, the bag with the tripod, and leave the house. Who knows where the cat is today. It simply does not appear to be around .
Pick up the bags and go downstairs, down to the street. Leave behind the messy flat. The son has scattered his schoolbooks all over the floor, an awful mess. He will get back into the routine of school work after his long holiday in Ireland, sometime.
Out into the street, the dry street, still and dark - one of the neighbours opens her door and comes out of her house, an elderly lady seeing to her plants, the ones that are in large troughs out in the street. Wish her good morning, she is surprised, unrecognising.
Dolores is ahead, proceeding along the Theater street, under the town gate, onward to the bus stop. The bags are heavy, and during the slow progress to the bus shelter the bog cotton man overtakes.
He is in a hurry to light up his mommy morning cigarette, his five thirty two cigarette. Teacher and another turn up, this bus is becoming more popular as prices rise and road congestion increases.
There is no pigtailed smoker at the station, and the slow service girl at the iYorma cafe has given up. She is replaced by an able woman, who is no faster, a seems confused. The man with the shaven head helps out again, he is fast, friendly, and makes fewer mistates.
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