ice cold grey clouds

Light from the window, blue grey now, the brown stained wood outside blue brown, cold neutral, colours to signify winter helplessness.

Oh to hell with it, light is light, cold is cold, and misery rules all.

Get up, go to the bathroom, morning ablutions, oh nothing to talk about.

It is seven, the cat wants to go out.

Let it out.

Get up, wander about in sleeping clothes, clothes that are worn from sleeping to much, worn from there being no urgency to replace them, they are full of holes.

Set up that coffee grinder to grind the special coffee bought in that cafe the other day.

Prime the coffee maker, put the whole thing onto the gas, go back to the bedroom.

Put on clothes for the day, get the little laptop

Read the news, political striving for power, power at any price, there is no need to explain to the people that that which they will receive is not what they had wanted, but they wouldn't understand anyhow, but let them believe that they are on the winning side of the pitch.

Arghh.

The coffee is burbling, that special coffee from the cafe is very good indeed.

Probably has something in it, or else it is just the reality of a high quality product making the difference.

Back to the laptop. 

Like musical chairs, when the music stops, there is just one chair missing.

And the bells outside are ringing,

Saturday morning at ten.

The son is singing, doing his homework on the side,

the sun is out, but behind those ice cold grey clouds.