skin tight blue

30.June 297

open both windows wide in the night, let in the cold fresh air, let out the old air.

At five the bells ring four times, then five, the alurm clock beeps. The cat comes around the corner, it wants attention.

Take off the night clothes and go to the Bathroom.
After- see that the mobile telephone is not loaded, it was not connected correctly yesterday.
Too bad.
The alley, cool blue, the church bricks lit yellow, bright
The preparations for the pageant are nearly complete, there are the stands set up for all the paying guests, the streets blocked, The road sign covered with sackcloth, thing like that. Hundreds of thousands of people are expectetd.They will gawp at a cast of thousands dressed in medieval costumes that prance about the streets acting in some medieval manner. It will take a month, then it will be over.

        The athletic woman approaches, wearing her hair in a knot on top. She is running, almost. Dressed in skin tight blue jeans today.

Is older, colder than yesterday ->

There is a flock of pigeons pecking at the breadcrumbs left by Dolores. She is sitting in the arch by the bus stop.She says good morning.
The sun is lighting the trees by the river bank with intense yellow light.

Yellow green, the river left in darkness, reflecting the trees..

Bus
Café
Train

- It is a friday, and the sun is a yellow, lighting the landscape under a grey cloudy sky, Ao. Many shades of grey, turning to pale blue in some spots.

it will not fly anywhere

The rattle of raindrops in the hop's foliage in the yard, cool damp refreshing air from the window. The sound of a door, unlocked, unclosed, banging a few times every minute.
The alarm sounds, silence it, today is the day for the dentist, the major thing, the three hours at a stretch job. So stay in bed a short while more, there need be no train today, Maybe later, pain permitting.

The son is up a little later, the cat gallops in looking for food, he feeds her from the tin out of the refrigerator.
Sit and write these notes, then let him give his talk, a last practice for school,
He knows it off by heart now. That is good.

Sit and write, listen to the noises from the street, hear the workers arrive at the house up the road, the sound of delevery vehicles. the sound of a small orange street sweeping machine. The machine passes, on it's mission to boldly sweep the dirt left by passers by, horses and birds. The little machine has a superficial similarity to the maintenance pods to be seen in that Kubrick film from the sixties.
But it will not fly anywhere.

The street is wet, and the look of the clouds says that it will rain more today.

The coffee at home is fresh and bitter.

The neighbours opposite have raised their blinds.
The young girls there have to be got ready for school.

The luxury of it, it is now seven twenty.

turquoise lace

28 June 2017
The air from the open window is still fresh early in the morning, as the alarm sounds. Take off that breathing mask, turn off the compressor.
Upon leaving the shower, meet the cat in the hall. She is in some affectionate mode today.


Go down the stairwell, have the house. see that it is the yellow waste bag day today. There are yellow bags in front of all of the neighbours houses. So open the front door again, be careful not to let the cat out, and go to the yard at the back of the house. There are the yellow bags, filled with used packaging, ready for recycling. Take the bags, look around to locate the cat, see that she is sitting halfway up the stairs. Leave the house with the bags in hand. The cat is still to be seen, wistfully looking at the door to freedom, from halfway up the stairs.
Close the front door, and proceed on the first leg of the journey to work.
The church is brightly lit today, despite the sky being covered in grey clouds.
It is later,  hurry through the town, hurry past the new bakery, through the arch of the town gate. Dolores is there, good morning, all is back in order. There is a new passenger, there, waiting, dark rimmed glasses, dark skin. Nervously moving back and forth unsure of when the bus may come, maybe unsure of being  in the right place.
Wait, let them all, including the newly arrived teachermann, board the bus first. Pay the fare. The bus is not crowded, but full.
The young woman with the mattted hair is at her usual seat. Looking  out of the window. Her forehead is covered with a lock of smooth blond hair, her rastafarian look mustbe growing out. She is waring a turquoise lace top today, all very pretty.
All get out at the station, walk past the other busses waiting there. There is the smoker at the ashtray, say the usual greeting, climb the stairs, go to the cafe. The tall man, the man with the shaven head., he knows the order, almost has the coffee on before it is ordered. The girl from the bus is there too, he hurries to serve her. she is an attractive customer, more attractive than the elderly man just served. Still, the eafé man is friendly, he is a man with routine, get the lid for the coffee, go to the table, there is the man with the road workers clothes and the serious expression.
Write these notes, the day's journey has begun.

golden ropes of hair about her head

 

27 June 2017
A spot of blood on the fresh shirt in the morning, a sratch on the nose, bleeding. They are two spots, one on the collar.
Take the shirt off again, and put on a blue shirt from the wardrobe.
Close the window to the street, it had been left open last night.
Pat the cat's head, before leaving the house. The blue bin is in front, it contains wastepaper. It is starting to rain, the day is cloudy, the sky gray and dim.

Today, the dry weather will end. There is a small umbrella in the canvas bag. But leave it there, the rain is no more than a few drops yet.

Pass the new café, it is not a café but a bakery. Yellow and white, the name Mareis all over it, large letters. It is just putting out it's stock into the shelves for the day.

Dolores is there, she wishes a good morning. Tell the money for the bus fare into the hand from the wallet, be the last to board the bus. Give the driver the money, she is a woman with a headscarf today She drives quickly, but rather well, there are no jerks and lurches tobe felt.

The young girl, the woman with the Rastafarian hair is in the bus today, sitting there with her eyes wide opens, the golden ropes of hair about her head.

At the station, the rain has intensified, but still-There is the smoker at the ash tray, between a blue skip and a delivery truck.

The sky has grown darker now,

miles from anywhere, at six in the morning

Birdsong, outside. It is just getting light. shortly before five. The birds seem to be talking to each other, the nearby one loud, the other then faintly in the distance. Take the alarm clock to the bathroom, so as to be able to turn it off as soon as it sounds. Whilst shaving, cut the lower lip, not badly, but it bleeds anyhow. This is a nuisance because of the blood. go to the small cabinet in the hallway, and take out a small plaster, stick it over the offending spot, the little injury.
The cat is behaving very oddly today, rushing from end to end of the flat, then sitting down and listening, then rushing off down the stairways in a mad dash, only to come up again shortly afterwards. Her tail is fluffed out, she scans very excited.
Sit down and wait, it is not half past four yet. Read the news on the tiny telephone screen, many people spreading other rumours, or informing of what happened last night. Or how satisfied they were with their evening meal. On, otkintmu of dubious interest. Social media. Almost a complete waste of time. But only almost. The distant hell sounds, it is tinny urd thin, sounding in the distance, a
distant omreh, only to be heard now because it in summer, the windows are all open. Then, seconds later, the deeper sound of the bells of saint Martins, St Martin's church . at the end of the street. The sound is there sooner, but the hell sounds late.



The street is dry, the church at the end has all its bricks lit by the sunrise, orange and bright.
Cross the main street, and move on down to the river, That is where the bus stop is, and it will be necessary to wait.

* Dolores-'GHEN Morgan' she greets-the older lady, here every day, waiting for tebus. Wait and watch the cyclists, some dressed in Mountain bikers gear. some wearing short skirts. It in summer, this is a simple means of transport, door to door, less demanding on parking spots than cars.
The bus arrives, pay the man his due, sit down, wait, the bus moves, stops, people get in, people get out. Get out at the railway station, and walk past the hundreds of waiting bicycles, and a blue skip for builders rubbish. good Morning to the pig tailed smokers, he is having his usual before the steps to the station.
The coffee at Yorma's has lost format, has gone bad it is stale perhaps the beans have been stored to long. It is flavourless, strange. The cardboard cup soon adds its own flavour, the whole ensemble is displeasing. The service there does not cover for the fact that they seem to want to be rid of their gusts as soon as possible after they have paid.




The munich train is delayed, it moves slowly across the landscape, there are faults in the signals, or the level crossings. Things do not work as they should.

There is a man in the distance in an orange safety waistcoat walking along a path through a wheat field in the distance He is alone, miles from anywhere, at six in the morning.
The train moves on, and leaves him behind.

condition

Cats condition their owners, the cat jumps on the piano in the morning. Stamps on the keys, plays a catwalk, a cat rhythm, tuneless sequence of notes-
She is drawing attention, hungry at five forty five in the morning. Up and down the keyboard, it always works. The human comes out to close the lid on the upright piano, the cat perched on the narrow strut beside the keys, watching. Then she jumps down to the floor and starts to preen herself., then rubs her arched back against the corners of furniture, human legs, it is irrelevant.
Open the fridge to see if there is any cat food there, there is not. A fresh tin, some food on the plate, the cat enthusiastic pushes it's face into the plate. the brown sauce surrounding the lumps of meat, meat from an unidentifiable source. Not to be identified with the means currently available.z
Sit at the table, fresh air coming in through the open window, the sound of traffic, occasional pedestrians returning home from some night out on the town.

This is the way things go, now there is the hiss, then the burble from the coffee pot on the gas, the light pouring  in through the window, the electromagnetic clocks ticking, those eighty year old beauties, brass marble and wood.

Drifting through the days, the weeks and the years.
The hiss in the ears is quiet, painless.

Sit here amid the mess owned by and created by others, placed on the furniture, every available horizontal surface a repository for things needed once, not needed momentarily, but maybe to be useful sometime.

Two bells, it is six thirty.
stop now
yearn for the embrace and the voice saying that all is well.
dreams.
It is not well.

weak end

sticky night, hot and moist, the atmosphere is summery, ready to be sliced, fatias, and put away.
Take a shower to wash of the feeling of living in some terrarium.

It is early, six in the morning, few are awake outside, the family asleep inside the flat in the old house.

The cat is excited, there is potential for feeding here. Cat food. Rations for cats. Two blobs on the plate from the tin kept in the refrigerator.


Put on the coffee machine.
The morning is cooler than yesterday.
And there : It is only six in the morning, on this Saturday.

Hear voices in the street outside, look down from the window into the street. The young woman with the top knot is just passing, sports clothes on, in the company of young man wearing a tee shirt and red shorts. They go to the end of the street, turn left. They are heading away from the police station. Now there are enough other offices in that direction too, but which ones are up so early?


Never mind.
The coffee is made, these notes are done. There will be no more now, the son is up, he so badly wants to be up early, but appears to be a natural born late riser.

And in the past half hour the temperature has cooled noticeably.


cool

bird affection

23 June 2017
        listen to a thunderstorm in the night, at three in the morning a downpour, a light show, thunder. It is dark. And after the thunderstorm and the rain has finished, the evaporating water renders the air moist and stuffy. Lie covered, then uncovered, get up, stroke the cat in the sitting room, listen to the sound of that loose tile in the passage. Sleep returns, and then get up at five, to take a shower. Brush the teeth, comb the hair. That is all.
Wait a few minutes for the bells to sound, and then go out into the alley. There is a white car parked there, it is a neighbour who is taking a chance on there being no parking wardens under way at night. Go down the alley towards the towering gothic window of the church... Take a right turn around the church. Just ahead there, at Grimm store, the young woman picks her way through the bicycle stands, hair done up in a knot at the top of her 'head, she is wearing a top leaving her midriff bare,-a pair of very tight jeans underneath. She crosses the path and moves on on her way,
Go down theater street. There is Dolores ahead, moving slowly. Go ahead, pass under the Arches of the town gate.
Looking back, see Dolores there, standing among a crowd of birds, ducks-and pigeons. She is throwing crumbs onto the ground, the birds are going wild - in their eagerness to get hold of a sample. She is normally here earlier, this is the first time that this display of bird affection is to be seen.

-. The bus driver points out an cpen shoe place as he takes his money.

- There is a green truck in front of the railway station today, unloading pallets , of soft drinks, and maybe supplies for the cafe. Maybe just for the bakery.

Say good morning to the smoker, 'standing at the ashtray consuming his morning cigarette.

- get that daily coffee at Yorma's, yellow mug with blue type...

Sitdown, start writing. Watch the people arrive and leave come in. A young woman with nothing 0n but a pair of sandals and a mans shirt. It is a hot summer.

- Wait until the waiting room is empty, then go on out to the platform. There is a group of very young people off on a

camping weekend, all wearing identical straw hats.

lower faces and proceed

22 June 17 Sound  of birdsong through the open window, is still dark, yet that bird is singing very badly, very loudly. Is it a nightingale, or is it the Beatles black bird? Must be about half past three in the morning. A very varied song, with patches of silence. Like the one side of a telephone conversation.

.
Awake from a complex dream at five in the morning. Still unsure of the truth of the dream content, take a shower, then wash the teeth, will need a new toothbrush soon.
In the bedroom recieve a visit from the cat, rubbing it's back on the bare legs, then running off to check the food situation.
Read the mail, wait for the two bells from Saint Martins Church.

There are pigeons picking at the cracks in the cobbles, and male pigeon showing off for female pagan pigeons, spread-outly tail feathers, lowering them heads. Birds, there are ducks in the distance, under the town gate. The young woman, the same one as yesterday, dressed in short light shorts, tee-shirt and cloth shoes. rounds the corner from the left. Both lower faces and proceed.
Absent minded good morning for Dolores.
There are many ducks under the trees by the weather station, they seem to have driven away the pigeons.
The bus arrives, Dolores goes onward first, then Teacherman, and be the last man on board, pay with a ten euros note.

A big white delivery van is parked in front of the steps to the railway station, almost -blocking the entrance. Return the white- dressed pigtail-hearing smokers "good Morning", and go up the stairs. squeeze past pallets fully loaded with boxes of frozen bakery produce, just unloaded from that white truck. They are being sorted and moved about by a man, fat, sweaty, dressed in green working clothes. He is using an orange pallet truck to move the pallets.
At Yorma's Café wait for the coffee, they are slow today.
The bald headed man attempts to give short change, and apologises when rebuked for this.

withered weeds

2, Jane-<017
sit at the side of the bed, wait for the small clock to sound. Hear all the bells of the town, all with four bells for the hour, and then the alarm beep sounds. One beep, then turn it off. The bathroom, a speedy shower and then a wash, brush of the teeth. In the bedroom again, hear the hells all ring once, for the quarter hour. Put on the clothes, then that is all. Stand in the hall, take the mobile telephone phone from the cradle, do not forget the earphones, put the wallet into the pocket. The cat comes in from the living room, and holds its head up, for scratching, then a short pet on its back. Then the small familiar is off to the balcony, to the cat tray.
Two bells, it is half past. Half past five. It is warm outside, the day will be hot. The clouds are high and thin.
Go down the alley, there are no other people there, apart from some figures at the distant end, leaving the notice station It is time for a shift change now, for them. Working all night. At the corner by the church, just by the Grimm kitchenware shop,
.
the same young woman rounds the corner and picks her way through the bicycle stands.. she is wearing very light sports clothing. Perhaps she has been running.
go down to the bus stop, there is Dolores sitting on the bench beside the shelter at the bus stop. Take a picture of the opposite side of the river, there are reflections on the water from the lights in the hotel .

=
.
Later on, at the railway station, say good Morgen to the smoker, white shirt, huge shorts, beige, outside ,at the foot of the steps. The cafe in busy today, but get a cup of coffee after a short wait. And then sit at a small table, ready to start writing these notes. The seat is built like a high piano stool, the sort which you can turn to raise and to lower it. The table is too low to able to write standing up.
The train is in late, a few minutes. This does not matter. The fields by the tracks are verde, some are amarelo with ripe grain, and some have just been harvested, the verge of the tracks is dessicated dry with withered weeds.

get the detached lid

20 June 2017
The cat wants attention today, purring,rubbing it's head.. No, rubbing her head on legs, chair legs, human legs, rolling on her back,playing. The cat has one of her friendly days 'it is six thirty, leave for the alley. The bin in front of the door, it has not been collect yet. Turn it around so that the gray plastic handle faces the street. To make it easier for the bin men to take hold of. A young woman approaches, shorts and shirt, it will a very hot day today. Look away so as not to rudely stare. She picks her way through the bicycle stands at Grimms shop. She probably is a policewoman, their shift changes at around this time. Look up,her eyes look straight into the writers heart, both look down, good morgen mumbles, and go on
And then, a woman cones out from the Arcades, where all the shops are, all closed at this time. She is meaning a red jacket and has two tiny black poodles on a lead.
The new bakery at the town gate is waiting for customers. It is an open-to-the street place. There are now so many bakeries in the town.
Dolores is at the bus stop, it is one of those days on which she does not return the greeting. she looks dismayed,thoughtful today. It is hard to say how old she is, sixty, seventy, it is all a guess.
The new cafe arrangement does not work well yet, it has been made more stark, more clean-looking. The television set in the waiting room has gone.. Take the coffee to the platform, just as the Rosenheim train comes in and down the stairs,down the passage, up the stairs, and out onto the sunlit platform just as the train to Munich comes in.
Get on the train, find a seat. Find a seat, sit down and start to take these notes.

Absently pick up the coffee mug, it slips.
grip harder,
it bursts.
All over the table, the left sleeve of the shirt.
The spray goes over to the side of the carriage. There is no-one sitting there, which is good.
The young woman sitting opposite looks startled, and reaches in behind the waste bin at the window end of the table to get the detached lid, she reaches this over,. Then she continues to read her book. Clean up the mess with a tissue. This day has not started well.
.

Idiot rage

19 June 2017
The ritual again today, the alarm clock, the shower to cleanse and to waken, and the usual search for clothing in the wardrobe. It all works quite automatically, even after a break of four days. The cat is nowhere to be seen, but that does not matter.
Leave the house into the fresh air of the bright morning. A short while later there is a young woman approaching, she looking at her telephone! The telephone has been left on the small shiny cabinet in the hall. Return, there are still five minutes left, and place the small device into the top shirt pocket. Return to the alley, in a hurry now. Notice the worn lids to the drains, worn by the many feet walking over them, every day.Take care not to step upon the dark metal surfaces.
Lapse into a semi conscious anxious state just walking along, all these known shop fronts passing by, or rather, pass them by.
At the town gates see the Teachermann.He is wearing pale blue shorts, and he is going on and walking to work today. He passes the bus stop, and keeps on walking over the bridge. In the bus shelter there is dolores, just sitting there, tired, wearing striped leggings over red slippers.
Read about the atrocities in Mali and London during the short bus journey.-Lives lost because of spite and hatred, feelings of revenge, a desire for revenge. Idiot rage, no more. The man with the pigtail is at his place for smoking in front of the railway station. He has a patch upon his forehead today, a white hospital plaster.
The cafe has been redecorated, it is otherwise the same. The coffee is the same, it has the usual quality. The tables in the waiting room have been lowered, it is no longer possible to write standing. It is only really possible sitting down. Things have to change, but this is no change for the better. But it is not important. The platform number six is a blaze of sunlight now, low, and blinding. The Munich train is much shorter than usual, something has gone wrong again with the Deutsche BAHN. Things are bothtn normal, the agriculturally managed landscape is the same as ever, under a bright low hung sun

try again later

sunny, a clear sky with fluffy little clouds, the rumble of traffic. Earlier on there was the sound of revellers returning home. And there are bells and traffic. Sounds.
And still that eternal hiss on the right hand side of the head.
Tomorrow will be another day at work

Today is a day to go out on a walk
to leave this house of eternal indecision

There is only immobility and indecision now
This is all going nowhere.
Nowhere at all.

try again later

early and study

It is early light again, grey flat and cold. It is misery, Disturbed
But get up, go to the bathroom, return, put on day clothing, and take the little grey notebook out to the living room. The old eyes attempt to focus on the tiny script on the screen. There is no news now, and nobody has written.

And it is seven fifteen
It is satuday

And there is nothing happening, nothing going to happen

There are heaps of things everywhere, piles of books, repurposed jam jars holding pens and pencils and a metal basket on the piano containing a pineapple.

The clock is ticking away to itself, a french clock working fine, using a german Varta battery.
The cat is padding about looking for things, it is probably depressive too.
Or maybe it is just hungry.
Downstairs the door slams as the tenant collects her bicycle.
She stores it in the passage overnight

And the son has come into the sitting room and has fallen asleep on the sofa.
So much for his plans to get up early and study.

clip clop

Day is free, free day three will be
tomorrow.

The sound of heels outside, on the pavement, clip clop down the street.
Coffee, black, the stomach grumbling, gurgling at the onslaught, acid chemical turmoil.

The son is up, consulting his machinery, his computers. He has been up for some time now.

And the mess is back in the living room, visible with the tinnitus, it is not possible to render it invisble today.


The cat waves her tail, looks at it over her shoulder, startled maybe, and then sits down and commences to lick the place where the tail joins her back.

It is quiet now.
Cars rumble by.

An answering opinion written for facebook.
Why bother, it will not lead anywhere.
why bother bother bother-it-all

cramp

the right leg had a cramp in the night, it is still sore. There is light in the window, early, it is six in the morning on yet another German bank holiday.

So now no work no trains and no car today


Just enjoy the sun, the cats frantic mad antics today.
Listen to the ticking of the clocks.
that will do.


And make a cup of coffee now.

It is all nice
summer air coming in through the open window,
the hum of a passing motor scooter

It could be worse
The flat is a mess
but then it always is

It is quiet

fake

day for the dentist today, there is no point in getting up early, so let the little black monolith clock sound, and silence it. There is the noise from the sons alarms, he trying to wake up early to catch up on his schoolwork.

lie and dream, that is to lie on the sore back,

Car driving is not good for the back.

Maybe it was the car driving, the uncomfortable seat.

Dentist day, but drink a cup of coffee anyway

but get up first, it is six thirty

take a shower

The sun is bright

there will be no rail journey today.

Not until next week, okey,

At seven there is the sound of building work from a house four doors up the street,

the destruction in progress before renovation can take place

Dentist, fear of pain, fear of the chair, the work in the mouth, drills high speed, grinding and polishing.

Noise, much like the building noise, the pneumatic drill joined by the sound of an electric chain saw, that old house is being gutted, being turned into a new house with old appearance, a palimpsest on an old beauty.

Modern times.

Times in which people claim to have a right to do what they like, the richer, the more arrogant. Moving on, looking ahead, never look down to see what you are trampling on.

Try for maximum leeway, force your way if you can, sneak about if yo can't.

no hug

bells ringing, church bells,automatically
ding ding, dong dong, boom boom.
There are at least three churches in the immediate neighbourhood.
Two rings, twilight outside the window
Four thirty.



And at five the beep, three beep, turn it off.
The klaxon sound of the sons alarm.
he turns that off to.

Go to his room, and wake him as he had asked the night before.
He is not in the mood for waking today.


Shower, brush the teeth, collect the camera and leave the house.

Car day today, as yesterday.
No railway stories.

no hug

hug

sound of an alarm in the dark, a klaxon sound from an iphone. It is in the son's room, it is the son's telephone.
After a short while, it stops.
It is four



sound of an alarm, it is light, a beep sound from a small black monolith by the bed.
stop it after a short while.
it is five


The shower baths water is cold, let it run warm, let water into the hand basin,
Shave the face, the three day stubble,
take a shower


Find the clothes in the wardrobe in the bedroom, socks pants shirt,
yesterdays trousers by the bedside,
get dressed


Go to the sons room, he has a high bed, this is his refuge, this is where he retires to
See a leg, touch it, pull hard,
son wakes.


Looks over the bed side, looks down at his clock, looks up in disgust.
retires back to bed, like an owl into its refuge
Back to sleep.

Gather the things needed for the day, the bag the pen and the 'phone,
The son comes round the corner, a hug, a bye bye,
that's it

sunlight in the alley

to make it better
sunlight in the open window.
Bells and sounds from the alley
pigeons call
it is 8:30

The bells on the churches are calling the faithful, they ring on longer today.

And the wife is in bed, and the son is up and working on his machines.

And the steady whistle or hiss on the right hand side of the head will not go away.

But ist is sunday and ...
and so what

this is like a roller coaster ride

learn a few more words

to the right, on a seat with a green cover, the cat. Tawny grey and red, lies curled with her nose to the back of the chair. The sun has benn up for more than an hour and a half, it is lighting up the tiled roofs on the other side of the narrow alley. The alley itself is in the blue shade,illuminated only by the reflection from the cloudless sky. The cat is making noises in her sleep.

The sons collection of alarm clocks sound at six thirty eight. One just buzzes, the other starets a radio. It is strange, the radio is hard to turn off. It is difficult to find an off button.

The cat in the sitting room gets up and stretches, and then jumps off the padded cover of the one hundred year old chair, jumps carefully to the ground and strolls about the room. Then she jumps up to the window ledge to look out into the alley.

A night of poor sleep, now, with a morning cup of coffee made, the time rolling on until seven in the morning. The news of the political upsets of the last months, already read on the computer, the disasters taking place in those run by the dictates of violence and physical strength. All the news from all over the world.

Today will be the day to take two pictures, a picture of a car sales lot.
in Landshut
um
And maybe a walk today. Stay out of the difficulties, just make a picture, tirar
pull a picture

posso
And learn a few more words in Portuguese

Cherry Picker Landshut

The cold and the colder

9.6.17
3 taps that is it,alarm silent. go the bathroom, shower. Return, put out the blue trousers and a fresh shirt. The cat, curious, rubs its head against a leg. That is it, all is well, now wait for the second sounding of st Martins bells. Saint Martin's is lit in early morning yellow sunlight, the sky is clear and strong dark blue. The alley is in the shade. All these hundreds of thousands of orange bricks that make up the church are lit. Over one hundred and thirty metres high. These orange bricks reflect in the surface of the cobblestones, surfaces polished by the rubber-tired wheels of the many cars that pass after them every day. A cyclist with a black helmet is just rounding the corner at the end of the street. See him disappear on his way into town.
For the pageant next month, workers have erected a wooden booth at the entrance to the town, near the bus stop. This booth has been done in an oldfashioned rustical style, with round tree trunks making up the pillars to hold up the awning. It is well done, but the materials are deliberately kept rough. To make it look medieval.
Dolores is on her seat in the bus shelter, she looks tired and unhappy today. The bright sunlight lights up christ church, across the river, the rivers ripple's glittering in the sun. Reflecting the blue of the shy and the green of the trees.
That verbose bus driver, his commenting on everything, loud, attention seeking. Take the ticket, and move on to the deserted back of the bus.
.
Find a path through the hundreds of bicycles left in front of the railway station. go to the bakery, ask the woman behind the counter for a coffee. she is unfriendly too, hard- accented, rough speech, maintaining a facial expression that looks a bit like a crumpled rucksack. she shouts over to the younger man at the coffee machine two metres away, telling him to make one medium coffee. He does, and at least he is friendly.
go to the platform, join the other people waiting in a group for the first part of the train to arrive. The sun is low, rising, sharply lighting up all the pylons and tracks and wires and structures of the railway station. A man asks whether or not this is the train to Munich.
* After the train has passed Moosburg look out at the flat riverside country-now predominantly green, but with browns and yellows. Verde, marrom, amarelho, agua azul
There is water vapour rising from the river meandering through the plain.
cold air, precipitating the moisture out of the air warmed by the river's water. The cold and the colder

uneventful, scribble

8.6.17 the clock beeps, reach over turn it off. It is five in the morning. The last time reached over, it was four forty four. It was darker then, this was just to check the time. A simple digital display. Shower, take care to brush the teeth well, and find fresh socks and underwear in the wardrobe. The mobile telephone is on the chargint unit, take that. Take the cream for the nose, and cream the nose, get rid of that infection. Take the brown bag and,-... yes there are five minutes left. sit down beside the grey filing cabinet in the hallway and take out the mobile telephone, and learn a few more Portuguese words and phrases. The telephone asks, type the word, yes or no,that is the answer. A small voice from the telephone speaks the words out, for the pronunciation. The five minutes are up, get up from the seat,take the bag and go down the stairs. The bag contains a small camera and this note book and a pen.
.
The street is bright the sky clear but for the white contrails from aircraft passing high overhead.
It is yellow bag day today, they are outside the door, placed there yesterday by the wife. Last night. All the houses, all the way down to the church, have those stacks of yellow plastic sacks in front of them today, waiting for collection later.
Just before the town gate, there is a large bakery truck, unloading bread products for the new bakery on the corner. A very large sports car comes around that same corner regardless of the rules of the road, and takes an illegal short cut through the pedestrian zone. It is a german car, made by Porsche. One of their dirty diesels, posing as a clean machine. Dolores is at her place in the shelter at the bus stop. She replies a good morning. Three minutes later, she is given a lift by a car, a black sedan; which just stops at the bus stop. Her friend, a younger woman, a few years younger than she. ⇒ drives unsteadily., And they are gone
After the uneventful bu sride

On the platform number six, there is a group of elderly excursionists waiting for their train. They are all dressed in walking gear, with sticks and rucksacks. Knobbly knees on thin legs showing, wide beige shorts, heavy walking boots. They are excited, talking accentuated Bavarian dialect, very loudly indeed, More well down the platform, that noise and shouting is too much in the
morning. They follow. Move further down the platform.
Board the newly-arried Train. They follow.
Oh no.

Move to the far end of the carriage. ok