car

The bathroom is ice cold today, but the way there is colder

The warm water pours out of the shower eventually, but takes a long time to reach the usual temperature, the house is cooling down.

And when the daily clothing ritual is completed, gather the bag with the computer in it and leave the house. It  is a car day today. There are things to be brought home from work. Pick up the freshly charged emergency battery from the floor beside the electric socket where it has been charging.

Leave the house at five thirty, and walk up the alley the other way, away from the church. At the end of the alley turn right, that street has a vocational school on one side and a police station on the other, and the small blue car is parked there. Put the battery and the bag in the front seat.

The car starts with a groan, the internal battery is on it's last legs, the temperature is at least minus ten degrees, it is a wonder that it works at all. The car in gear, the mirror adjusted, the lights on, and so drive through the sleeping town as far as the tunnel, then through the tunnel and down the road along by the river.

The car hums along, it sounds like a functioning machine, all is in order.

And just at the turn for the Autobahn, turn on the radio.

Listen to a part of Vladimir Horowitz' last concert.

The day starts well, manoeuvring along between all the other cars.

To be at work at six fifteen.

Early.

broken by the ripples

Tuesday, 27th February two thousand and eighteen
After finding the misplaced glasses, leave the house. The alley is cold and dry, the weather is not as cold as yesterday, but without a thermometer it is hard to tell. Walk downthe alley, pass the church, cross the main market and go down the theater street to the town gate. From there, see the bus stop, there are both the bog cotton man and Dolores. Dolores is an older woman, she has a seat on the bench in the bus shelter. The bog cotton man is standing at the pole on the top of which the bus stop sign is fixed, that is, at the bus stop itself. Say good morning to both of them, and spend a short while looking out over the river, the river reflecting the street lamps, and the brightly-lit windows of the hotel opposite reflect on the water,all these reflections broken by the ripples on the water. Like the reflections in the wet street depicted by a french impressionist painter.

The bus has arrived, and the town official too, the one that looks like a teacher; They all board the bus, be the last one. Pay the driver, and take the remaining seat at the very back of the bus. Watch the people board and leave the vehicle at every stop on the way as it rushes through the streetlight illumination. The fifth stop is the railway station, get off there. Hurry across the station forecourt, past all the bicycles, hundreds on their stands, go up the stairs, and into the cafe.
The woman with the mark on her chin looks up after she has finished dealing with her current customer. She just says 'large coffee", or 'grosse cafes" as a question. Agree. She has a Slavic accent, and has a problem with the correct gender of the word Kaffee. Masculine it should he, but she makes it feminine. It is of no matter.

The coffee is brown warm and bitter, and the waiting room has people all thrown by sight in it. The chubby man in his blue overall, the fidgety men forever adjusting his bags and things, and a workman falling asleep over a table in the corner.
Start to write these notes, leaving out the bit about the shower, the cleaning of the shoes, the early morning sound of the 4 am alarm clock.

platform at the back

Monday, 26th February
A dream of the ownership of a London bus, the old type, with a. A machine well known from memory. A dream of the bus being taken over by a child, a young boy, driving first gear, roar of engines. And the vertigo feeling as the bus does not make a corner, then barely does slow the machine, stop it. The bus has a photographic laboratory on the top floor. It is very strange. The alarm is drumming loudly now, wake up and turn it off. The Ipad alarm.
Gather the 'phone, the pen and the ipad' m the dark. Take them out, put them down by the Mcnim the corridor. Take a shower, the water is warm, the air is all cold.
That dream ended with a young child taking over the bus, and rolling it down the hill, and the dream will not let go.
The street is bitterly cold today the alley dried with the frost small heaps at icy snow, here and there, leftover from the snowfalls last week. It is really cold, there is a cold wind around the church, caught by the church spire. maybe.
At the bus stop, say good morning to the well-wrapped bog-cotton man , and dolores too. Dolores points at the bare head, the white hair, and says 'cold!". She is a believer in hats. A hatwould have been good today.
There are a few people on the bus, known to see, recognised from yesterday, from Friday. People known by sight but not ever spoken to.
The smoker at the station, cheerful in the bitter cold weather. Wish him a good morning.
And with a paper cup of fresh coffee, greet the man in the blue overall, the cheerful small man, who looked like a hedgehog once, when his hair was short and spiky around his face. Like a Hedgehog in a child's book. He does not look like that anymore.


and at six, the train. The weeks work is underway again, the Train in first light rushing through a frosted-white landscape.

a whole weekend to recover

Another morning, awake alone, awakened by the cat, it is causing a fuss, it wants to be let out. Let out into the cold of the coridor.
Then to the bathroom, and then back to the bedroom, put on yesterdays clothing. Yes, it is sunday, and there is no need for the Sunday best.

Read the news on the computer, Americans seem to be realising that weapons designed for war have no place in the hands of a civilian society. Or something like that.

The coffee maker, let it warm up.
The first cup is weak, the machine is cold.

Hear the cat outside, let her in.
Then go back to the machine. Empty the sieve filter, refill it.
The machine is by an Italien firm, called Pavoni, it is one with a small electric compressor, or pump.

Coffee and chromium.
The second cup is better

The cat wants to be fed. A spoonful of cat food, cat breakfast.
The son is up, the computer is on, his passion and his prime interest.
For now.
And the sun is out, it is a bright and icy cold day outside.

A third cup of coffee.
It sometimes takes a whole weekend to recover from forty five hours work and attention.
Now it is nine in the morning, and the son wants to go to one of the town cafés.
OK

small, silver, secondhand

awaken, it is just light, the grey sky in the morning, lightening  the bedroom, all shadows, clothes. The cat comes over, purring, passes the pile of clothes over the chair, goes to the slippers under the radiator and starts to lick the leather, purring, rasping it's cat's tongue on the interior of the leather slippers. Purring and rasping, fawning on the human legs now come out from under the blankets.

Go to the bathroom, the cat follows. Return, and the cat jumps onto the window. The grey sky, temperatures below freezing outside, it will be colder during the coming week.

Put on the dressing gown taken from it's place, the hook on the back of the door.

Go to the espresso machine in the kitchen, small, silver, secondhand, but in good condition.

Empty the grounds left there yesterday, fill the little sieve container with fresh grounds and turn on the machine.

Wait untill the second little green light goes on.

put a small white cup under the sieve

press the button

a small cup of coffee is the result.

The son is in his bedroom, listening to the Bohemian Rhapsody, learning it off by heart for the school concert, the big choir, the whole school sings for the parents and relatives.

Sit at the table, and type a few notes.

Sneeze, the cat makes a meeowing noise.

The cat always does that when somebody sneezes.

Who knows why?

for she is very young

23 February 2018

Morning, up before the alarm, look at the watch. It is five to five. Leave the lights on, put the clothes together, leave the house.
There is slippery frozen snow on the pavement, crunches underfoot. It is cold, a cold spell
that will go on for a few more weeks, two. Walk past the church, a bakery truck speeds by on the main street. There is a car parked at the junction, at Grimms shop. These are private security people who take care of the shops. When it is cold, they remain in their cars with the engine running. At the bus stop, exchange the usual morning greetings, Dolores, the bog cotton haired man. It is the same story every day. Realise that the ipad is still on the cable at home, forgotten. That means that there will be no Portuguese lesson at lunch break today.

Later on, at the cafe, the bald man with the beard, his boss, the dark haired girl, for she is very young, with the dark rimmed glasses. The service is fast, and the coffee is the first hot thing today.

Later, on the platform, it is freezing cold, a cold breeze, unpleasant, taking the warmth from the run of the coffee cup. The train is late, and it halts farther down the platform than usual.
Observe all the prospective passengers rush down the platform to find their usual place on the train. Some are in panic, then the waking
train slows, brakes, they follow the desired carriage down the platform. The train stops, the doors open, and the arrivals disembark. Those waiting on the platform are impatient, they wish to he on board first, they are frightened that they are not going find a free seat with the desired company. One man forces 0nboard, pushing past those trying to leave the train.
Stand back and watch this show. It is not really important, what on earth is import ant?

painting her eyebrows

22 February 2018
the stream of unconsciousness is ended, get up, stretch, turn off  the ipad. The pad is a considerate waker, with strumming guitar-like sounds. Shower, gather the clothing, dose the glazed doors.. Put some of that cream on the nose, it will prevent the silly honker from going vermillion, vermelho, red.


In the entrance passage to the house see that there is refuse scattered around the bins, people have not been careful. Leave it to the old man to clean up the others sloppiness. Stop the self pity - open the door to the street. The alley cold, cold and frozen dry. All the way to the town gates, not a soul on the street. See the bus stop from the town gate, one hundred paces, good morning to Dolores, Dolores grunts. The bog cotton man says 'good morning. And the bus arrives early. After paying the driver take a seat and wait in the throbbing bus, throbbing to the sound at the engine, wait with the bus until the timetable on the drivers display permits departure. A young woman is putting on her days make up, painting her eyebrows, reddening the cheeks of her face, passing the time on this bus.
Later, at the station, there is the smoker, with his rucksack and his long hair -  Good morning. And in the cafe, service without a word.

Morning routines, running almost automatically.

hear the sound, understand nothing

21 February 2018
The alley has a coating of frozen snow on either side, but none in the middle. So walk down the middle of the road, over the damp cobbles, pass the church, a woman comes the other way, pass close to each other, both with faces downcast.
Dolores is at the bus stop, say good morning. Down at the wall by the river, there is the man feeding ducks again. The Turkish gentleman in approaching, wrapped in coat and scarf. He talks loudly to dolores, hear the sound, understand nothing.


Pay the bus driver, go to the rear of the bus. It smells of diesel fumes, they must have come in through the opened door. This is a long bus with a joint in the middle.
At the station, wish the smoker a good morning. There is a woman in a dark coat brushing the cigarette butts from the ground, around about the ashtray. She has a dustpan on the end of a pole. The dust pan swings into a vertical position when raised from the ground so that nothing will fall out.. She is a short and fat woman, and because of her coat, her brush, and her pan the whole ensemble scuttles like an insect. The area around the ashtray, and the granite steps themselves, have been cleared of snow, and she is now removing the cigarette ends.


The Catweazel man comes over, he wants to sit down too. Another table empties, is cleared, and he goes over there.
People always want privacy, and the tables are small.
The cat weazel man is gregarious, long haired and bald. He is unkempt, but very friendly. He listens patiently to a woman at the next 1 able talking unceasingly about her illness, and the charges-made at the hospital.
Leave the cafe, go to the platform. The Train rushes in, much faster than usually. Board, and take a seat opposite the  dayglo raincoat man. He is reading a magazine. Write this account, there is plenty of time, for the train is delayed for ten minutes.. The announcer says that there are technical difficulties with the coupling apparatus.