Get up, go to the bathroom, brush the teeth there too, wash the face. On the way back to the bedroom meet the son, he wants to go to the cafe.
Give him a hug in the corridor, see the father and son picture in the long mirror there. There are forty eight years between the boy and the man, the one with long red hair and the other with short grey hair. A strange picture, a strange pair.
A sunday visit to the cafe, the only one open at that hour. A cup of coffee, a bottle of coke, a small roll with egg, a sandwich made out of a Turkish roll. Sunday breakfast.
Sit outside in the street at one of the tables, it is still cold even though the sun is bright. Watch as people come and go, with dogs, or on bicycles, or both and leave with rolls and cakes in paper bags.
It is cold, and the son is freezing, despite his warm shirt.
But breakfast is enjoyable, untill a crowd of regulars come and take over their "usual" table and start shouting their jokes at each other. Some people are noisy in the morning, others are not.
Take a walk about the town, up to the New Street market, and then down to the river. There are very few birds there today, two ducks swimming against the current, moving sideways. Further on a few pigeons on the buildings, courting, cooing and pooing.
Return home, and look at the wall whitewashed yesterday. It has become so bright as a result of the lime, that is nice.
The floor is a mess, it will need cleaning today.
It is sunny, and there are no plans for the day.
As usual.
Give him a hug in the corridor, see the father and son picture in the long mirror there. There are forty eight years between the boy and the man, the one with long red hair and the other with short grey hair. A strange picture, a strange pair.
A sunday visit to the cafe, the only one open at that hour. A cup of coffee, a bottle of coke, a small roll with egg, a sandwich made out of a Turkish roll. Sunday breakfast.
Sit outside in the street at one of the tables, it is still cold even though the sun is bright. Watch as people come and go, with dogs, or on bicycles, or both and leave with rolls and cakes in paper bags.
It is cold, and the son is freezing, despite his warm shirt.
But breakfast is enjoyable, untill a crowd of regulars come and take over their "usual" table and start shouting their jokes at each other. Some people are noisy in the morning, others are not.
Take a walk about the town, up to the New Street market, and then down to the river. There are very few birds there today, two ducks swimming against the current, moving sideways. Further on a few pigeons on the buildings, courting, cooing and pooing.
Return home, and look at the wall whitewashed yesterday. It has become so bright as a result of the lime, that is nice.
The floor is a mess, it will need cleaning today.
It is sunny, and there are no plans for the day.
As usual.
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