then for the half,

The light from the window is even and lifeless, emanating from a plain grey, completely occluded sky.
And that is the way things are.
The son is up, his project to bake some morning rolls in progress. It is seven in the morning, and all the bells from the churches have been counted since three this morning.
Four bells, then three bells, fifteen minutes later, one bell, fifteen minutes later, two bells, then another fifteen minutes and three bells.
Then four bells, followed by four bells, then one for the first quarter, then one for the second quarter, then for the half, and then for the third quarter.
Then four bells, followed by five bells, and then all the attendant bells for the quarters, the halves and the three quarter hours.
It proceeds so untill now, one bell, it is eight fifteen in the morning.
The sons baking attempts are finished, the rolls are very flat, but nice. Most unusual.

And the antibiotics have been taken, the decongestant too. The bronchitis has gone away, a weak cough remains. Look up at all the samples given by the dentist yesterday. Three different types of toothpaste, all with attractive names. The old teeth should be happy to have a change from the supermarket's budget paste.

It is time to get up, the cat has been in to say a feline greeting, purring and rubbing her back until her head is scratched.
It is good to be on holidays.
The mornings rush to work will be back, but for now and for another week it is gone.