It is all very fiddly

31 August 2017

It is dark, the streets are damp. There was the rain half an hour ago, heard from the bedroom as it splashed down in the courtyard. There are delivery trucks, unloading, one or two people in the streets, otherwise all is completely quiet. It is still quiet, and now that the summer is past it's heighth it will become colder.

sit down in the bus shelter by the big bridge over the river, somebody has left popcorn on the seat. Brush it aside. That is it, wait.

The man, the Teacher-like man arrives, say: good Morning. He is wearing short Trousers

The bus arrives out of the distance, let the man board first, pay for the fare. The ride to the station, uneventful, fast. The driver isrough, hard on the brakes, the bus jerks and jolts. The man is used to driving unfeeling stones, or gravel.

The smoker is at the station forecourt sayd good morning there too, we all wish good mornings, being friendly people The service people in the cafe, the one with oriental appearance, and the other with her dark-rimmed glasses..

sit at the small table and watch the people helping themselves from the self service counter. They are using long tongs to extract the bakery produce of Their choice from The shelves, holding up the flap with one hard, usually the left, and attempting to grasp a pretzel, or a cake with the tongs in the right hand, to then drop it into a bag. What is the point of the tongs?

One large woman is a bit inept at all this, she drops the pretzel on the floor-The unfortunate bit of bakery produce is kicked under the table, and a second attempt is made with the tongs.

It is all very fiddly, all very complicated.

It is now six in the morning, the Rosenheim Train has arrived, it is time to leave for the platform. The train is on platform number 4 today, platform six is being repaired, the tracks are being replaced.

There is a low fog over the landscape, it covers the ground. The taller trees poke out of it, this will all disperse as soon as the sun rises over the horizon. 

Curiosity, no commitment

six, five. Five in the morning. Shower, brush the teeth, do not bother to shave. It will be a tired day at work. The cat is lying on it's back on the bed, not curled up as cats often are.
Gather clothes from the wardrobe, a shirt, a pair of trousers, underwear, shoes, pieces for the day, collect the small items, go down the stairs, out into the dark alley.
The entrances to all the houses are blocked with small heaps of yellow plastic bags. Some have ten, others only two , depending upon the amount of packaging used up in that house during the last two weeks.

The sky is a dark deep blue, it will be at least forty minutes until dawn. This blue is reflected in the river, a river thus black and blue, the yellow lights from the hotel reflecting too, sparkling in the rough surface of the steady flow of the passing water. Watch whilst waiting for the bus. A man walks by slowly, struggling with a bad cough, smoking a cigarette.
In the bus, a most beautiful young woman sits, listens to loud music on her phone, a jangling noise with a hissy beat from her earphones. Her curly black hair surrounds her head like a dark halo, her eyes are distant, dreaming still. Look away, watch the buildings pass on the other side of the street as the bus moves on towards the station. Look back again, brightly lit petrol station  outside the bus. The woman looks away, she had been looking over and now looks away in a hurry. That is the way it goes. She gets up and leaves, lights up a cigarette as soon as she has left the bus. She looks over once again, so look away. Curiosity, no commitment.

The girl with the indian facial features is on service at the cafe, a measured pace of work, calm, but still succeeds well in getting her work done quickly.
On the train to Munich a group of policemen across the carriage have coffee and cake on the way to work.
A breakfast party on the way to work in Munich, brown chocolate cake and a thermos flask full of coffee, blue plastic mugs without handles.

Dawn is just breaking as the train reaches Freising

bin day

that was yesterdays decision. To go to the doctor today to listen to him recite the results , those examinations last week.
It is good to catch sickness early, but it is all just tiredness

hear the alarm sound, beeping.
silence it.
there is no need today, that appointment is later. It is all just tiredness,
It would be better to go to work than to hang around,
half an hour appointment
inefficient

Hear the dump truck outside, the orange car with the light on top.
panic, for the bin has not been put out.
Put on trousers and go downstairs, floppy plastic garden shoes.
Take the bin out, there is due to be a second collection.
That first collection was only for the ordures from the restaurant opposite.

The noise of the pneumatic drill at the end of the street starts.
it is seven in the morning
They are turning the old butchers shop into a garage for parking cars in.
Rich people will live there, never needing to go far for their car

The doctors appointment will be later today.
And the flat is silent but for the ticking of the clock.

Maybe more later
the tiredness is encroaching again.
A clear cool morning at the end of August.

Monday, and what is the date?

Friday, end of August The sound of the small bell, the one from the big Jesuit church. Then the deep tolling from saint Martins bells. It is half past, on the street already. In the dark, the dry cobblestones reflecting the lamplight. A matt grey shimmer.
Opposite the Angels stamp collectors shop, realise that the wallet is not in the pocket where it should be. Turn around, go back to the blue house. lhdwh the red door, go up the steps, bedroom. Yex. there it is, on the writing desk. Forgotten. But needed.
Return
Hurry out of the house for the second time this morning. Hurry, so as to be in time for the bus. The Mare is bakery ran, yellow and white, is blocking half of the road at the town gate. There is a smear of sugar and flour, a bakery smell. They are hard at work unloading The half-baked bakery products to be for sale to passers-by during the day. Teaohemam arrives, dressed in shorts today. Everything is back on time now. The bus arrives, there is a young driver with red hair today.

Let
the teacher on board first, he is not a teacher really, but some kind of municipal employee. He shrugs, and goes ahead. Pay the driver, she gives change. A smooth journey, she drives well. The station forecourt is bare, there is no smoker there.
get a large coffee in the cafe, it is now quarter of an hour since that blue and white pill had been taken. stand there in the cafe, sup coffee, write the beginning of these notes.
.
Monday, and what is the date? It in the twenty eighth of August The girl in the cafe has big glasses with black rims, all according to fashion. she forgets to put on the coffee. there are so many people, all impatient, coffee, cappucino, latte, cigarettes, everything.
Hear an announcement, that the train is due to leave from another track, different from the usual. This does not matter, it is the same platform, the same as Friday. Just the other side. The train is delayed, it leaves late, and it is light by the time it moves through the foggy landscape at the river banks on the way to Moosburg.

not enough time to rest

sleep at night does not work at all, it is early, it is dark, there is no light outside, get up listen to the bells, bells of churches, quarter to six, three.
Take that blue and white pill, doctors orders, stomach inflamation.
up at the window watch a two young men on bicycles, young women screaming and giggling on the backcarrier, wobbling over the cobbles at high speed down the church alley in Landshut. Lightly dressed women, men pedalling hard. At the junction by the police station one women walks off, all wish her a good night.

silence, streetlight to the front of the house.
clamor church bells.

and the stomach hurts, aches the tinnitus whistles, something is wrong, the thoughts are in a daze. Sitting at the table in the living room, no room light but the light in the window from the street lamps.
clamoring church bells, and the mind fuzzes, sleep comes.
stagger back to bed.

Sleep untill nine, feel no better, but be awake.
heartache and heatburn

Is the cure worse than the complaint

Sunday.
there is too much time
on a sunday, and not enough time to rest.

sabado

chaos
CHAOS
from the small
to the very large
saturday morning
unplanned disorder
the son's phone gone
down behind bed's head
ringing behind the panels
his klaxon-like wakeup sound
the noise muffled by those boards
in panic rushing through all the rooms
find a screwdriver now to undo the panels
blame somebody else for the misplaced phone
now all togetner a frantic thirteen year old teenager
look search wife up all frantic it is behind the bookase
quiet
recriminations
the peace is broken
the unfed cat is hungry
lets everyone know that
awful awful saturday morning
reserve, reverse

chaos

CHAOS

from the small

to the very large

saturday morning

unplanned disorder

the son's phone gone

down behind bed's head

ringing behind the panels

his klaxon-like wakeup sound

the noise muffled by those boards 

in panic rushing through all the rooms

find a screwdriver now to undo the panels

blame somebody else for the misplaced phone

now all togetner a frantic thirteen year old teenager

look search wife up all frantic it is behind the bookase

quiet

recriminations

the peace is broken

the unfed cat is hungry

lets everyone know that

awful awful saturday morning 

center

whichever way you look at it

Strange mark

The cafe at the Landshut railway station is bare, just two people behind the counter chatting to each other, the man with the bald-shaven head and the young woman with the big black glasses. Just on single customer comes in, otherwise all is quiet. the railway station is empty of the usual crowds as well.

That discount card being full, get a free coffee. The coffee mugs have a red ring on them today, with white writing thereon. The writing says something about freedom from lactose. Wonder. What is lactose anyway? Freedom from it seems to be a selling point. The train comes into the station, it is past daybreak. There are few people on the platform as well, it is a quiet Friday. The cup of coffee is only half finished on the train, as it leaves the station in Landshut, and the polite voice of the train's conductor wishing his passengers a pleasant journey. The dim foggy landscape outside, green and blue in the dim light reflected from a cloudless sky, passes by outside.
All of the houses are painted white, the colour of choice, apparently. White with red roofs, all very neat, all most proper. That is the way things are, here in germany. cross the rivers, the Isar and the Amper, before reaching Moosburg railway station.
Good morning to the last day of the week, from a man on a blue covered seat in a red train.
The blue cover has small black squares woven into it.
And the coffee cup is empty now. Farther down the carriageway, the policemen on the way to work are sharing out mugs of coffee chatting  about police things.

Forgotten in the draft

24 August 2017
listen to the bells in the distance, two for the half hour, three bells for a quarter to the tour, and four belss for the hour. silence, the bedside dark, the clock only alarms. once.
get up, be fast, sleep would be welcome now. Turn on the shower, wait for the water
to warm, wash. Back to the bedroom, take
fresh underwear from the wardrobe, and a fresh shirt today.
The cat hurries past today, one very perfunctory glance. The cat is on cat business, whatever that may be. Take the second blue and white pill, as the doctor ordered. A capsule, containing who knows what, something to stop an infection, a stomach infection.
Put the mobile 'phone into the pocket . go down stairs. The alley is bare, goldie stop apposite is closed, the portuguese restaurant is closed, it is holiday time. At the main street, there is the man in the brown jacket, heading on down towards the town hall, a small identity name tag hanging from his trouser pocket. Just like the people who work in the atomic reactor, there are two of those structures  the vicinity. on the left, in theater street, there is a pork butcher. He has a shop sign of a happy looking pig holding a fork in iit's trotter upon which a sausage is impaled A cannibal pig, this is curious.

And on the left, further down the turkish fast food store, Döner Kebab foodstuff...

still further on, that new bakery outlet, silent and dark. The person in charge there is late.
From the bus stop watch the bakers truck arrive, reverse in towards the bakery. And wait.
The bus arrives punctually, and one short ride later, the railway station. The smoker is there, but he barely says" good morning". He is in a bad humour, or telse he is tired.
Enter the station in that crepescular blue dawn light, creepy. The service people in the glaring bright cafe are friendly in a businesslike way, taking money, purveying food, cigarettes and drink, checking discount cards. Today the last stamp on the card, it is full There will be free coffee tomorrow.
at the platform, ten minutes later, dawn is now breaking. The train arrives. The tall young woman ahead, in the white trousers and the denim jacket gets on ahead.
The denim jacket has 'good Morning sunshine" embroidered all over it's back. Bright and cheerful in the creepy misery of the early morning.

the day will be hot

23 August 2017 sit up, hear the early morning church bells ring, look at the clock. It is four fifty nine, wait a moment, and it starts its beeping noise.
To the bathroom, the shower is now eompktdy broken, it does not work at all any more. Wash at the hand basin, brush the teeth. There is a new part to the routine now, go to the cabinet at the wall, and take the first blue and white pill from the white bottle they were bought in. The first of them. the rest to be taken by the middle of September. A slug of water to wash it down. and wait another white, the cat comes by and wants it's back scratched, or what ever. A quick purr, then it is gone.
Down the stairs at half past, down the alley. The head is still asleep, it is hard to remember anything.
At the town gate, the yellow and white Mareis bakery has it's glass doors closed today, there will hardly be room for customers, But there are none there yet.
Upon arrival at the bus stop, wait a minute, the bus is already arriving. It approaches out of the distance, sneaking along the road, it's big illuminated destination board a white glowing bar in the distance. The bus driver is early, and has to wait at the bus stop, to leave on time and not too early
Good Morning to the smoker, coffee at the station, it is early light, there are no clouds in the sky, first haze on the horizon. The sun has not risen.


Board the train at platform six, the sun will have risen by the time it gets to Freising, and the day will be hot.

do not drive or operate machinery for twenty four hours

walk, package in hand, a heavy package.
Last night's work, it was late and then early, three in the morning.
All the prints dried and cut.

not cut and dried.
Packaged
and home to bed.
Turn off the alarm one hour later, silly thing.

up at eight,
doc's appointment,
go on foot

walk, package in hand, a heavy package
to the post office, first.
Wait for five minutes, until nine

The heavy package weighs eight point nine kilos
and costs twenty two Euros and ninety cents, shipping.
Pay

walk on through the town, past the market place, pass the old gaol, out towards the town gates.

There is the hospital, turn left up a long hill.
Stand in line.
Present the insurance card, say that an appointment had been made for now.

Go to the waiting room, read the garbage magazines, then go to the idoctor's room.
Talk about the risks, the dangers, endoscopology, all on an empty stomach
then another room, a bed, tubes, a thing on the finger, a blood sample taken, a botched piercing of a vein, and now there is something for sleep.

Wake up in another room, a young trainee nurse clearing up the bandages.
and upon leaving,yes a gastric infection.
take these pills on the prescription, do not drive or operate machinery for twenty four hours.

car

a quarter past five in the morning, leave the house for the dark street, There is a long haired young woman walking ahead, walking on up the shadowy alley. Follow, it is the same route. She crosses the main street ahead, and passes by the police station, turns off left towards the schools and the small park where the christmas market will be held.

There is the blue car.
Get in, the young woman has wandered on into the distance. Out of sight.

Start the engine, turn on the headlights, back up a little, and then do a three point turn, to head up the street, past the park and the church behind it. Pass the school, the school the son goes to.

Follow the road, enter the tunnel under the castle, yellow fluorescent lighting, grimy walls, smell of oily exhaust fumes. A car tailgating, the driver behind wants more speed.

After the tunnel, the long,  along the river road to the motorway,  the roundabout.
Hear the tyres squeal.

The car today, to be in at work early.

rumble on the cobblestones

Shouts and loud voices in the alley, male deep, female shrill, some loud.
It is four in the morning, the night's entertainment is coming to an end for some, crowds indulging in loud conversation outside.
The night is coming to it's end.
Four nineteen in the morning.
The cat is up and about. -humans are up = chance of food.
But the cat is unsure, a nocturnal animal, and retires to another corner of the house.

There are fewer people passing by outside, there are no people any more. Occasionaly, the sound of cars. That is all.
Indoors the clocks tick, and then a person makes an exclamation outside, in the alley.
A car passes, the radio thumping loudly, the party continues inside the car, at this hour probably homeward bound.

Sit at the wooden table in the dark, the light from the faux street lanterns coming in through the windows, the wooden framing throwing black linear shadows on the wall. There are two empty bottles of water on the table, a few place mats.

The summer is slowly coming to an end, today on the twentieth of August.
And just to write down this description
took sixteen minutes, it is now four thirty five.
And another car passes, out on the mains street.
rumble on the cobblestones.

hissy

it is late, there is a sound of traffic outside the open window, the excited sound of the owner of Goldies second hand shop opposite talking to an artisan who is setting up her new shop on the other side of the street. She is moving to larger premises. The bookshop has left, closed, there is no-one interested in old books any more. Like the record shop in the other street, it just folded.

There is a crowd of tourists at the end of the street, at the church, standing about with umbrella in hand, listening to the stories their guide is telling.

It is eleven, there is no sense of privacy now, the rest of the family is up, the son is furious at not having been woken, the wife is angry because there was nothing to purchase at the flea market.

The tinnitus would sound like a choir, a choir of bees, drowning everything,  a scream hiding behind a steady hiss

recession

listen to the sound of children in the street outside, chattering and talking. The family have their car parked in front of the door, in the street. Loading up their holiday gear, for a long holiday. The Portuguese restauraunt opposite will close for the holidays soon.

The chatter is steady, the parents talk.
A car rumbles past.


Look out, the child is climbing up the car, the door is open, it is using the luggage rail as a grip.

And then there is silence again.

The tinnitus is turning into a steady loud hiss again, almost painful now, it is early in the morning during holiday time
There is still a blue plastic salad bowl on the table from yesterday

and the plans for the day have receeded into the distance.
Look through the open door into the kitchen, all the utensils placed on the working surface., The large glass of honey, the coffee machine.

Yes, the coffee machine, make a cup of coffee now.

better than nothing

A normal weekday's sounds outside.
scooters and cars. rumbling over the cobblestones that pave the roads.
A hiss and a rumble a steady noise.

Inside there is a sinle wasp again, flying up and down the window trying to leave for the street.
It is blocked by the glass panes.

Grind some coffee beans,
start the machine

Go to the bathroom
return
coffee is ready.
And there are more cars outside, speeding up and down the road.
There is no work this week
There are many overtime hours from the past,
Thus:
Stay at home and relax

It would take more than a week.
to recover fully

But a week is better than nothing.

morning news

black liquid in a white cup.
on a white saucer
black wood table
orange circular place mats left over from last night.

Rain outside, it is dim. A truck passes at six fifty six, it is the waste disposal people. One man at the back of the truck in an orange outfit, weather proof,
and the driver.

And at seven, they are gone.

The first sips from the white cup, bitter black
The son is absorbed with his computers again

The rain is dripping down outside, soaking the streets, the water gurgling down the gutters, rumbling in the fall pipes.
There has been a lot of rain, a thunderstorm in the night.

Summer storm in the night
and then the steady rain to follow.

Black coffee in a white cup on a white saucer.

And seventy years, two generations later, too many persons have forgotten the suffering, the indignity, everything, and take the same course again.
To read the news in the morning is not always a cheerful idea.

Holiday for mother Mary

Today is the day of Assumption, a catholic holiday in Landshut. There will be parades through the street maybe, and song, and church bells.
Or not.

Coffee made and the cat fed. The family asleep, the clocks all ticking to themselves.
It is soundless outside, no it is not. The window is closed, that is all.
Open the window onto the street, let the air in. There is the sound of a car in the distance.
Look out into the street, there is the priest walking over to the church.

And at nine forty five the church bells all sound, clamouring, calling the believers. Assumption, a day celebrating an old story, a belief.
And they toll without stopping for seven minutes.

And there is the hum of an insect now, woken by the warmth from the window, between the windows of the double glazing, trying to get out. It always flies up to the light, away from the open window pane at the bottom of the window. It will never get out at that rate.

Now it is nine, the church bells sound the hour, people pass outside.
This is a day of rest, the second day of a week of rest.

And the church bells start a again, a steady tolling, calling the faithful.


The streets are still silent, there is no one there.

holiday time

Get up and get dressed
in older clothes, there is work on the house due today.
Slept in late, till seven.
luxury.

Make coffee, get a slice of bread.
The family is sleeping
Feed o gato
The noisy cat.
Miriam is her name.

Fix the load of old wood to the trailer
Ok

Go and get the car, leave it in front of the door.
Say hello to the neighbour
oh. morgen.
Good morning in German.

open the double doors wide
wheel out the little trailer
fix it to the hitch on the blue car
That's it now.

And take the old window frames off on their last journey

The family is still asleep
it is holiday time.

drizzle

Rain outside the open window, the sound of clocks, the grumbling from rainwater in pipes.
No cars, no rumbles, the carousing pedestrians are all in bed now, yeterday evenings saturday night out has ended with first light on Sunday morning.

The son's alarm clock has sounded, but he has gone back to bed. Good intentions, but that is that.

Get up, cut a slice of bread, butter.
It is a quarter past eight, and all are asleep. The cat has taken a walk through the sitting room, rubbed her back on all available legs, furniture and human, and has gone again.

It is raining still, perhaps there will be no walk today.

But now, make coffee, then another slice of bread.

The coffee made, black brew in a white cup.
And still there is silence

But the rain is less severe now, changing to a drizzle

Thats it.

silence

Silence on a Saturday, all is silent but for the ticking clock. It is acceptable now, now that it is quiet, there is no disturbance.

There is no sound of traffic.

Sit here after two and a half hours of more sleep

And think of the distance, think of a long walk.

sit here, a bottle of water and a glass for company.

Look and wonder.

The things left lying about all week

need to be put away

But never mind

Enjoy the silence

It is hard to relax at home when there are things that need to be done,

when there are so many things undone.

But the silence is good, the quiet hiss on the right hand side of the head, never mind.

Get up to make coffee,

for one

The week is done

Bring the biological waste, the banana peels and coffee grounds to the bucket at the end of the balcony.

But due to the sound of this activity,

the family awakens

the end of peace and quiet

Grey

11 August 2017 It is raining outside, and to be heard through the open window. A steady patter of drops hitting the ground, the surrounding roofs. A gurgling from drainage pipes, a gurgling from drains.
Take a shower, a spray like the rain, but inside and warmer.
Pick up the clothes, and get ready for the day. There is a spot of blood on the nose, the skin was delicate there.
outside. wak through the streets, there are puddles every where, the water is flowing out of the top of a broken fall pipe on the church. It is blocked, not broken. Either way, it is not working properly.
Down the street to the river, pass the brightly lit bakery outlet.
Dolores is at the bus stop. she smiles, Good Morning Dolores.
Two ducks approach, maybe a duck and a drake. It is hard to tell. They both stand there, facing Dolores. They start to quack loudly. Qua-Qua. They want to be fed.
so Dolores gets up, and throws them something from her bag. Now there are more ducks about, all searching the cobbles and the verges for food cast there. As the bus approaches they draw back.
Dolores feeds ducks!
The bus driver gets his money, read the news on the 'phone. Trump is acting the idiot for no good reason. No visible reason at all,
On the station steps. wish the smoker his good morning. The man is always - cheerful. Always.
.
the young serving woman at the cafe smiles, prepares a coffee and takes the money as it is brewing. The cafe is empty Today, it is holiday season, or else- who knows? There is no reason to worry. Apart from the delicious pattering sound of the rain, it is a day, a friday, miserable and grey.

Late

10 August 2017
 awaken, the morning is dark now, dark untill May, 2018. That's the way. Leave the house, into the alley with the glare of the street lanterns, the street lamps, reflecting of the cobblestones surfaces. Wait alone at the bus stop, wait for the bus to arrive. Watch it approach slowly, sneaking along the road. Compared to the big tracks, it is a very low vehicle, and moves steadily, slowly. It stops at the bus stop, the driver looks over, says good morning as the doors open.
Pay the man the one Euro coin and the two ten cent pieces. Bette, dante. Dont call the man a donkey! say bitte danke
 At the railway station, waorm through the space where the hundred bicycles are ranked, wish the man with the pigtail a good morning. He is standing at the ash tray, his usual place. The cafe is full of people, hurrying to get their morning coffee and rolls, grasping food out of shelves with long tongs. They will eat it with their hands, the bread and the pastry pieces but in the shop they grasp it with tongs Never understand that.
As the train leaves the station, took over the tracks and see a long line of wagons, each an identical hopper, containing the coarse gravel used by the railway company to rest the tracks upon: first gravel, then sleepers, and on the sleepers the tracks.
Realise that the telephone hasbeen left upon the charger at home. That won't never happen to a modern day teenager. That means that these notes will only be online this evening. That will be late, but
l
ante tarde do que nunca.

fed by the rain

Wednesday. 9.8.

The wet, the church alley is a glistening lane. There are those yellow plastic bags in front of each house, yellow plastic bags containing the waste left after all the tiny yoghurt has been eaten, the bags containing all of that waste plastic packaging, yellow bags full of it in front of every house. They are all getting wet now, glistening in the lamplight.

The brown man hurries down the main street, down to the Town Hall, off into the distance.

Alone at the bus stop today, wait in the rain.

The smoker is at the railway station, smoking under the awning to remain dry. Inside the station, all is cosy bright, the lights fitted at Yorma's cafe are really bright -the indian girl serves again, she is a little bit confused today

The light is glaring bright here too

1 be platform full of people hurrying, the train opens the doors, people get out. yellow light in the carriage, weak small fluorescent tuhes.

A grey mass of clouds outside, rain drops on the window.

Dark green foliage outside, fed by the rain, the river will be a major torrent tomorrow, fed by the rain.