it is not far to the window from the bed, listen to the rain at night, the thunder rumble. The thunder is preceeded by a flash, the time between the flash and the thunder shortening all the time. As the storm receeds, the time span lengthens again.
That was in the night, and now there is a damp grey morning, a smell of damp builders rubble from the yard. That must be got rid of!
With every breath acompanied by a bronchial burble realise that somebody else is going to have to move that rubble, let it smell.
There is the sound of bells, the tolling of Saint Martins, and the clattering of Saint Jodoks.
Sort the mornings pills ready for taking, and then go out and make a cup of coffee instead. Gimoco coffee from Italy, bought with attention to the price tag, and very little else.
The sound of the sons alarm clock is loud, the wife shouts threateningly. There is the sound of panicked movement from the next room, the sound is silenced. The sound was an unpleasant buzz.
After a while the wife starts to snore again.
Make some coffee on the small machine.
Read the news on the computer.
Read about madmen who are always happy to assume that fault is in others.
Read about self-serving dotards and abuse of privilege.
Read about the destructive malice of simple entertainers.
Read about greed and destruction
read all about it, learn nothing.
The tawny cat comes in, looks horrified, the one who is usually gone at this hour is sitting at a desk. She jumps on the bed, and settles down. Who knows whether or not she is really horrified behind that furry face and the big predators eyes?
Go to the kitchen, another coffee, a glass of water.
Drop a decongestant pill into the water, doctors orders, take the antibiotic, lil´amoxi, and then a Prednisolon, reminds of Gaddis, agape, and wash the last two down with the first.
Doctor's orders.
Sip the coffee, creamy without milk.
Pleasure.
And think of the days planned excursion to the radiologist.
Shadows, tuberculosis, cancer, bronchitis, nothing at all
It is eight in the morning now, tolling and clattering outside the window
That was in the night, and now there is a damp grey morning, a smell of damp builders rubble from the yard. That must be got rid of!
With every breath acompanied by a bronchial burble realise that somebody else is going to have to move that rubble, let it smell.
There is the sound of bells, the tolling of Saint Martins, and the clattering of Saint Jodoks.
Sort the mornings pills ready for taking, and then go out and make a cup of coffee instead. Gimoco coffee from Italy, bought with attention to the price tag, and very little else.
The sound of the sons alarm clock is loud, the wife shouts threateningly. There is the sound of panicked movement from the next room, the sound is silenced. The sound was an unpleasant buzz.
After a while the wife starts to snore again.
Make some coffee on the small machine.
Read the news on the computer.
Read about madmen who are always happy to assume that fault is in others.
Read about self-serving dotards and abuse of privilege.
Read about the destructive malice of simple entertainers.
Read about greed and destruction
read all about it, learn nothing.
The tawny cat comes in, looks horrified, the one who is usually gone at this hour is sitting at a desk. She jumps on the bed, and settles down. Who knows whether or not she is really horrified behind that furry face and the big predators eyes?
Go to the kitchen, another coffee, a glass of water.
Drop a decongestant pill into the water, doctors orders, take the antibiotic, lil´amoxi, and then a Prednisolon, reminds of Gaddis, agape, and wash the last two down with the first.
Doctor's orders.
Sip the coffee, creamy without milk.
Pleasure.
And think of the days planned excursion to the radiologist.
Shadows, tuberculosis, cancer, bronchitis, nothing at all
It is eight in the morning now, tolling and clattering outside the window
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