wages were low enough to pay for a lamplighter

Wednesday January 31 2018
Away from the dreams, there is light and sound from the pad. Carefully turn it off do not touch the "snooze" button by accident.
Shower in the bathroom, that is where the shower is. The door has become unhinged, it is now a wobbly construction of curved glass, which still prevents the spray of water from soaking the floor. And when finished, put the watch back on the wrist and return to the bedroom. Socks and pants from the wardrobe, put on the clothing for the day. Out in the hall again, put some of the doctors cream on the nose,an antibiotic story. It stops the nose going red.. Comb the hair, and then brush up the shoes There is still polish left on the brush from the last time, and the  shoes come up with a satisfying shine.
And it is now time, the Martins hell has tolled twice, leave the house for the dry street -Dry, dark and deserted, but for those picturesque lantern type lamp enclosures, street lamps that look like old gas lanterns. They make the street took as if it was still in the   end of the nineteenth century. A time when people were both poorer and richer, and wages were low enough to pay for a lamplighter.

The bus arrives, and wait for the otter passengers to finish their business with the driver before boarding. A cyclist rushes past on the footpath, taking the gap between the bus stop and the waiting persons at inconsiderate considerable speed. The cyclist coming the other way, has to stop and wait.

The man driving the bus is bald, but he has a moustache. Whiskers over his upper lip, cover his mouth. Just like a walrus. He is well padded with flesh too, just like a walrus. He speaks Bavarian too, that is not at all like a walrus. At the bus stop, the usual crowd of four, teachermann, bog cotton man, dressy man and Dolores. They are all in the bus shelter even though the weather is dry. Pass the bus shelter to look out over the river lsar, calm today, flat, gently streaming along with the colourful lights reflected on the water's surface.

At the station, queue up behind five Balkan building workers for coffee. The one in line before me has a newspaper with all the text in Cyrillic letters. The girl in the cafe remembers, and 'grosse  kuffei? is the greeting. One Euro and sixty cents, and a further stamp in the discount card.