ready for the day.

sometime in the night wakende by a regular beating noise, frequency about two hertz. Dream up all kinds of causes for this before wakening to at least fifty per cent.

The cat is removing hairs trapped in it`s stomach.
All perfectly natural.
revolting.

Lazy, tired, go back to sleep.


Wake in the morning, it is eight.
The cat is happy, purring away to herself.
The wife is still sleeping.

Get up, clean up the nights mess.
Wash.
Dress.
Today is Monday, a day between holidays.

Make a pot of coffee.
Listen to the hiss in the head.
The throat specialist said that everything was ok and that there was no cure for it.
He looked as if he was thinking "another nutcase"
Medical specialists.
special medicalists.
Oh forget it.

Extract a cup from the burbling Bialetti.
Eighteen italian cups in that machine.

And go to the table, check the mail, write these notes.
All is ready for the day.

And the bells call the faithfull, it is eight fifty five.

let the cat in during the night, in the dark.
Just a dissociated purr, due to the dark The cat is invisible, but it sounds the same, and feels the same. Brushing against the legs, butting it`s head against human knees.

Scratch it`s head while trying to  go to sleep, the mask hissing on the nose, the tinnitus whistling in the ears.
There is an hour lost in the night, the clocks were set back, it is lighter in the morning again,
It will be necessary to wind on both of the French magnetic clocks. The automatic alarm clock will reset itself, it recieve man made signals, the other clocks just use gravity to keep their timing constant.
they are independent.
Not as inaccurate.

Get up, put on clothes, make coffee for the morning. Since their is a new seal in the Bialetti, the coffee is hotter. Can that be? Suppose the decrease in pressure loss leads to an increase in pressure and..... Who cares?. The machine does not make such a mess any more, the old seal was in very poor condition.

And drinking coffee write these notes. The son is up, doing things to his computers. Coding. Twelve year old. Ridiculous.

Sunday morning.
Silver apple and black coffee.

And it is a grey foggy day, homogenous grey light illuminates the areas around the windows. Soft shadows growing increasingly hard as their distance from the source increases.
And the bells call the faithfull, it is eight fifty five.

Bad contact

This head is full of packing material other than the usual grey matter. Inert trimmings of soft waste fill that space between the ears, from the high pitched hiss on the right covering all subtle tones to the clear and quiet left. A false signal, unheard by anyone but the hearer, A sore throat completes the picture.
There is the sound of alarm clocks, or mobile phones.
The son has a klaxon sound, rhythmically  sounding until he shuts it up.

Then the wife gets up, and the son.

Pretend to sleep-  a few minutes more.
Then all are away, in the kitchen.
Bathroom, toilet, do what is possible and necessary.

return, all are in bed again.

What?

Well, it is raining, therefore there is no point in going into the flea market today.
Wet second hand goods.

ugh.

so back to bed.

At nine the postman rings.
Twice.

A small package of electric lamps for the french light fitting in the sitting room.
B22 fittings.

Install.
One works, the other does not.
Bad contact.

The son looks and advises to try another bulb.
Bad contact.

more small jobs for the weekend.

Write this account, having made fresh coffee and alll.


And what is that silly feeling between the ears?

early morning apple..Like a clockwork diorama.

        Friday 28 October 2016

        No, it is too early again. Tidy up the things for the day, find the glasses, put everything into the small console.

        Back to bed, now sleep again.

        Turn off the alarm, take off the night clothes, go to the bathroom, take a shower. And return to the bedroom, get dressed.

        There is a tray full of apples in the sitting room. Pick one up, eat it, early morning apple..

        The cat comes, and rubs its head against both legs, first one, then a circuit around the human, Than the other. Scratch it`s head, let it purr. Then it turns around and runs into the bedroom.

        The street is cold, dark, and foggy. There are picturesque halos around the street lamps. And at the end of the street a man shuffles past the church. The discount bakery has the blond proprietor working in it today, a tall. fair-haired man. And Dolores at the bus stop, her shy good morning. Teachermamn approaches out of the distance; simultaneously, the bus approaches out of the distance.

Like a clockwork diorama.

        A dark haired young woman with a baby carriage - boards the bus at the next stop. She leaves the bus again, leaving the baby on the bus, and goes to collect her suitcase. Then she cargoes lack to the baby it's carriage on the bus and all is well..

        She gets off at the station, in reverse order. First her bag, then the baby.

       Greet the smoker with the pigtail 'good morning!

The coffee from the Indian girl is good today.

Not today

Thursday
a night of rough sleep, wake up and straight into the bathroom, the shower. Out again, to the clothes laid out the evening before. check the money, the keys, the mobile phone, and the watch. All set. Half past.

The street is silent and empty. The empty shop opposite the ornate blue and white house has reduced the lighting in the window, it is now a dimly-lit emptiness, and not so glaringly brilliant anymore. Say 'guten Morgen to the woman in the discount bakery, she getting this ready for the day's sales is hard work. She just carries on working, she does not hear the greeting. Say 'good morning' to Dolores, the sad faced women with the head scarf. she is wrapped up against the cold, the cold that she feels. It is not cold. Not today.

Teachermann turns up, and wanders around waiting.

check the change, board the bus.


The station cafe is being taken care of by the young girl of apparently Indian background. She serves the coffee, large black and in a paper cup.
Hedgehog is there, also the man with the beer bottle, all the hair on his head a quarter of an inch long.

Leave as the small train from Rosenheim is just arriving at platform one, beside the cafe.

There are young women in black tights on the platform, a whole crowd.
Strange.
The man opposite in the train is talkative, chatty without end.
Nobody asked, but he talks anyway

The pullover is too warm.

Wednesday
Having slept, just awaken one hour too early. At four in the morning.
Sleep in fits and starts untill five, there is no need to get up too early also. Finally, do get up, take a shower– wash the teeth. By the time that this has all been done, it is time to leave the house.
Realise outside that the weather has warmed.
The pullover is too warm.


Now it is too late to change this, and walk on to the bus stop. The bog cotton man is there, so is dolores. and then Teaeheomaum arrives.

Watch the dark river flow past, silent today, only the reflections of the lights on the other shore indicating the movement of the water. The station is busy today,-the shaven headed man with tha beard-serves coffee.
At the table opposite there is a main orange high-visibility safety clothing. He is drinking from a battle of beer, he is very intent-he has a hard face, roughly shaven, with short white hair. He just sits there, pale faced with his orange coat with its reflective stripes. Just that strong face, quick and intent.
On the Plat form a crowd of trainees on their way to work, talking of their first-year experiences.
Stand alone, as always. Wait for the train to arrive, to stop, to open doors, to let the arrivals out, and to let the departees in... and as this is being written, the train slows down for Moosburg.
The blue seat opposite, with the pattern of black squares, will be occupied soon.
maybe.