3: g. 2018
Gather the socks from the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, the underpants from the next drawer up. Dress for the day, the same black corduroy trousers as yesterday.
Pat the cat on the head, she starts to purr in a disinterested sort of way. The wife has gone to the bathroom. Then put some of that petroleum jelly based cream on the nose, take a yellow pill, and go down the stairs. The street is wet today, and it is windy. A storm was forecast for later in the day. But it is just a small breeze now. There are drops of rain falling, but it does not warrant, the use of a cap, and an umbrella is of no use in the wind.
The bakery at the farm gate is receiving an early delivery, there is a black truck parked in front of it. A stack of plastic containers is being lowered with a lift. The stack is as tall as the man standing beside it, the truck's driver. A days supply of rolls, of cakes, loaves of bread, all of the things a bakery supplies. There is no baker any more, the items are made in a factory, and baked to finality in the hot air ovens in the local bakery. It is not the same as a real bakery, but those are slowly going out of existence.
The bus shelter is deserted, and then the Teacher man arrives. He wishes a friendly 'Happy newYear, return this, be polite. Let him on to the bus first,be polite, he wishes the driver a happy new year too. The driver is a friendly man with a bald head, he gives change for the proffered ten Euro note. He has trouble with the automatic till, a coin has jammed in one of the chutes. 'A short, sharp blow with the flat at the hand sorts that out.
There is no smoker in front of the railway station, just a few men huddled up in their winter workmen's packets, go to the cafe counter, take out the discount card. It is full of stamps, ah, ten of them. Today is the day of of the percentage coffee, and receive a fresh card as well. The fidgety man pushes by, he is in a hurry. That is his nature. He hands over his cup, a colourful mug decorated with a text saying' PRAHA'.
He has a high, squeaky voice, not pleasant.
Take a seat at the last free table, beside two men who have not washed for some time. They are both sitting at a table and sleeping.
This is no luxury.
Gather the socks from the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, the underpants from the next drawer up. Dress for the day, the same black corduroy trousers as yesterday.
Pat the cat on the head, she starts to purr in a disinterested sort of way. The wife has gone to the bathroom. Then put some of that petroleum jelly based cream on the nose, take a yellow pill, and go down the stairs. The street is wet today, and it is windy. A storm was forecast for later in the day. But it is just a small breeze now. There are drops of rain falling, but it does not warrant, the use of a cap, and an umbrella is of no use in the wind.
The bakery at the farm gate is receiving an early delivery, there is a black truck parked in front of it. A stack of plastic containers is being lowered with a lift. The stack is as tall as the man standing beside it, the truck's driver. A days supply of rolls, of cakes, loaves of bread, all of the things a bakery supplies. There is no baker any more, the items are made in a factory, and baked to finality in the hot air ovens in the local bakery. It is not the same as a real bakery, but those are slowly going out of existence.
The bus shelter is deserted, and then the Teacher man arrives. He wishes a friendly 'Happy newYear, return this, be polite. Let him on to the bus first,be polite, he wishes the driver a happy new year too. The driver is a friendly man with a bald head, he gives change for the proffered ten Euro note. He has trouble with the automatic till, a coin has jammed in one of the chutes. 'A short, sharp blow with the flat at the hand sorts that out.
There is no smoker in front of the railway station, just a few men huddled up in their winter workmen's packets, go to the cafe counter, take out the discount card. It is full of stamps, ah, ten of them. Today is the day of of the percentage coffee, and receive a fresh card as well. The fidgety man pushes by, he is in a hurry. That is his nature. He hands over his cup, a colourful mug decorated with a text saying' PRAHA'.
He has a high, squeaky voice, not pleasant.
Take a seat at the last free table, beside two men who have not washed for some time. They are both sitting at a table and sleeping.
This is no luxury.
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