good mornings

leave the cat at the top of the stairs, and leave the house.
Turn to close the door, and see that there is light coming from the entrance to the neighbours house.
His door is open, he is looking out

Wish him a good morning.

Walk down the empty alley on the dark grey cobbles,  up the slope by the church, the new soup kitchen to the right.
Walk all the way down to the bus stop, avoiding the sand that is closing the openings made in the cobbles by the workmen laying pipes for the glass fibre data cables. Avoid that sand because the dogs and cats of the town abuse it for their convenience. It would be a bad start to the day, to step into a sausage of dog shit by mistake.

At the bus stop wish Dolores a good morning. She is all smiles these days. The bog cotton man is there too, smoking his morning cigarette.
Wish him a good morning too.

The bus arrives, and the taxi driver makes it just in time.

Wish him a good morning

all of these good mornings were returned.

But the smoker at the station is busy with other things, and there is no exchange of good mornings.

See his father off to work

Tuesday, 30th of October

The son set his alarm this morning early, so that he

could see his father off to work. The young man stood

there, holding the cat. He is concerned, he does not get to

see his father as much as he would like to. Maybe, maybe it

was just curiosity. Sit on the chair in the hallway,

putting on the still slightly damp shoes. The feet feel

the cold of the flagstoned floor through the socks..

The son asks for a few minutes more to speak, and

to fix something technical But there is no time, it is

necessary to go to work. So say goodbye and leave

the house for the dark cobbled alley to the church.

A short walk later, having passed the renovated

jewellery store and the bakery stop, stand at the

bus stop. Five minutes, the bus will arrive, and

all will be as usual.

At the railway station's cafe, enjoy the usual large

coffee in the usual kind of paper cup, with it's

plastic lid. Watch the people hurry through the

station on their way to the platforms. There is

the mosaic maker, rushing through the station,

neither looking to the right nor to the left. She is

a young women, maybe thirty, who works in

an artisanal place in Munich, making

mosaics for railway stations allover the

world ← They will work for churches too.

Later, the train passes through a dawn landscape,

skeletal trees on the cusps of all the hills, the

hills themselves in darkness, the sky barely bright.

Whiff of diesel

Monday, 29th of October

A rickety old ↳ and Rover passes the bus stop,

an old and noisy car smelling of diesel oil,

leaving a cloud of smoke as it accelerates on

the main road. It is noisy. Mention that it is

the ideal city car to the bog cotton man. He laughs, and says that it would go everywhere in the winter snow. The whiff of diesel oil lingers in the nose, even on board the meanwhile arrived bus.oo

↳ The driver today has a long quiff of

hair on the crown of his baits head, and

anther Bull shaved close. He also has some

jewellery pierced into his nose. But he drives

smoothly and steadily, keeping his distance

form a white truck which takes a corner

to the right, stopping with its tailgate in

the centre of the road. The bus drover has

to wait untill the Hnhage is cleared.

at the

railway station, there is still

time to buy a cup of coffee. The waiting

room is full, every table occupied.

There is Norbert Hedgehog, and there

is the fidgety man with a colourful

bandana. Put the hid onthe coffee, and

with the first#e of these notes vnto the

small black notebook.

our hour

Sunday, and it was a long day yesterday, and an hour was gained in the night, the clocks were changed.
Sunday, and it is raining.
There is not much to do today, other than to relax.
Read the news.
American horrors.
They never seem to stop.
Maybe they will never end.

Make coffee, make coffee for the wife.
Stop the wall clock, it will be necessary to wait for an hour.
Set the watch to the time displayed on the computer.
And wait, make another cup of coffee.
Talk.
The son gets up.
He would like to go to a cafe
for a morning coffee.
tell him to get dressed first.

then he comes out again
he still has no shoes on.
He is a disorientated teenager.

Then : an hour is past
start the clock

friends

Get up at seven, all the other people in the house are asleep. There is the son, with two friends over on a visit, and the wife, asleep and sleeping deeply.
Get up, go to the bathroom, return.
See that it is seven in the morning, two hours after the usual awakening time, The cat is awake too,  and is wandering about, looking for attention. Go to the kitchen, turn on the light. Work at the coffee making machine, small and silver; with mechanical parts that need a quick rinse.

Later, sit at the desk in the bedroom, the rest of the flat has been taken over by the son and his friends.
Sit there and try to work out what is happening to the world according to the news on the computer.
Drink up the coffee.

The wife gets up and goes to the window.
She sees that it is raining outside. And goes back to bed.

And there is no news, no surprises. A misguided bomber, and a democracy working in Germany. And a government in England unable to explain what it is doing and why.

And now it is lighter outside, the cat has gone to sleep on the bed, the wife is sleeping too, and now it is time for a second cup of coffee.
And prepare to go to Munich, to visit friends who have come to Germany on a visit. They want to look at Munich.
It will be nice to see them

na manha

A night's sleep is a dream, a thing that will not happen in reality. Listen to the sounds of the cat going about cat business, listen to the heavy breathing  and snores of the sleeping wife. It is three a m. and then the alarm sounds, the wake up tune

from the 1 pad tablet. Get up, wash away the sleep under the shower and get dressed.

The cat makes a great display of affection, but it is only hungry.

Down the stairs, down the alley, leave the building.Leave the centre of the town behind.  Pass dolores on her way to the bus stop, she is struggling along today. She is a small woman

of maybe fifty years, bent with work. She is from Turkey.. 'The man with the white flowing

hair smokes his cigarette standing at a park benchh and wishes a good morning as he passes on his way to the the bus

stop itself. The bus driver takes the five Euro note, take the thicket from the machine

and move on to the back of the bus.

At the station, avoid the tangle of bicycles arrayed around the bicycle racks. say good morning to the man with his hair in a pigtail who is smoking at the ashtray out in front of the station. 

He is cheerful, and lightly dressed despite the chill of the morning

Spillage

Thursday, 25th of October 2018

The young woman in the cafe, Andrea, looks

up, over the glass counter, and says 'Kaffee?'

say large coffee, and pass the money over to her

Then realise that the discount card is full, all

ten spaces for stamping have been stamped.

So to avoid complications, she hands over a

new discount card. On the way to the table in

the waiting room, stop at the small counter to

pick up a lid for the cardboard mug of hot coffee.

The tension in the stack of lids gives away, and with a jerk, the top one is freed.

The sudden movement causes the coffee to

spill, just a bit, onto the floor. Cover the

coffee remaining in the plastic cup with the lid, and turn to tell the man behind the

counter that there has been a spillage.

He is out quickly to wipe the mess up, he uscs

paper towels. He says that it does not

matter. The big young man in a tight

yellow T-shirt.

Sit down at the table, sip the remainder of

the coffee. start to write notes again. Realise

that it is hard to express all the facets of

annoyance that this small spillage has

caused. and it is hard to describe the

details.

Machine care

Wed, 24th of October

awake long before the alarm sounds, get up, go

to the darkened sitting room with the computer.

Look at the data, the memories of all the data, the

memories that late become data. There are pictures

of the son as a young boy, five years ago.

And the new system cannot lelwstalled, there is

not enough space. Throw out all the sgtnid files

from work, they should not be there anyhow. Now

there is space enough for the update...

The alarm sounds, that all took longer than

expected. go to the bathroom, take a shower.

And, on returning, the installation has wogressed

the minutes quite dis-asociatedfoomtk progress

kr on the screen.

Remember to switch on the dish washing

machine., and thin leave the house.

There are yellow plastic bags scattered in

the alleyway, the wind had blown them mvay

from the doors where ttcy had been so neatly

stacked. One rolls down the strut, like a

Tumbleweed in some Western film...

arrive at the bus stop, just as Dolores is

being ualtwted. Sometimes her friends who

drive cars pick her up and-well, that is

what has happened now. The bus in early

today, betk first on board.

Taxi

Tuesday 23rd of October, 2018

Today the son leaves the house first, at a

quarter past seven. He gets to school early,

to be able to do his homework in peace and

quiet. Get up, go to the bathroom and take

a shower.

And when that is done, make a cup of

coffee and stroke the cat's back. Read news

in the computer,Trump playing with people's

lives, and May fighting to stay in power, Merkel trying to stop the rocking boat from rocking.

The wife awakens, she complains of a

headache, she gets up, makes a cup of coffee. Give her a package of Ibuprofen 400

She takes one, washes it down with coffee

And, at five to nine  go to the barber‘s

around the corner. go up the stairs,

let the glass door ring the entry gong. The

hairdresser is there, and with a speedy routine and a chat about fast cars.

-. She is fast and efficient, removing the grey wool that has grown since the last visit. She is alone in the shop, and the telephone constantly rings, well every five minutes. She has to answer, this slows the process greatly.
But then the hair is cut, the money paid,  and thus return to the street and walk on towards the bus stop.

There is much traffic in town, delivery

trucks, and there are road works. At the

bus stop a taxi stops and moving the driver inquires as to whether or not a journey to

the station is in order. Look again, and

realise that this is the Municipal man driving

the taxi. He is a taxi driver, not a teacher

and not an office worker. He says that he

is going there anyway, the journey would he

free. So get in and chat with the man, he

drives all the way to the station.

say goodbye, and then go to the cafe, as

every day. The cafe is deserted, the

morning rush hour has past. Get the coffee,

and go straight to the platform to catch

the train at nine forty eight.

It is good to be on board the train

and able to watch the light landscape

pass the windows outside.

Three hours earlier there

would have been

been nothing to see but

bright specks of light from street

Lanterns, pairs of light beams from the cars on

the roads, and the illuminated

windows of the houses scattered all

over the landscape.

Like new cars

Monday, 22 nd October, 2018

There is an electronic timetable at the bus

stop, the writing in orange glowing lettering.

It is nice technology, but the timetable display­ed there today is wrong. The writing says that

the bus is due in fifteen minutes. But that

is all wrong, the bus is due in five. Say good

morning to dolores, she explains that the display is malfunctioning. Words come To mind like 'quebrada'. But it does not matter. There is a printed timetable attached to the bus stop

It says that nothing has changed. there has

been no change of timetable... and the bus

arrives on time. It is a new vehicle,

it smells like new cars do.

at the station, the entrance to the cafe has

broken, the door is damaged, and will not

open. Everybody has to use the side entrance

: still. get the large coffee, the girl with the

dark rimmed glasses is serving. Her name

is Andrea.

Today is a strange day, today is a

quiet day. As the commuter train

comes in to Moosburg, there are crowds

on the platform, all waiting to board

the train to go into work..

Tick tock and then a click clack

it is six fifteen, and there is the sound of a ticking clock, then there is the sound of the sons alarm clock. The clock is still an electrique Brillie, bought from France years ago. A clock that arrived in Germany badly damaged due to the rough handling in the post.

To be alone and relaxed in the own living room in the dark on a Sunday morning.
With a second cup of coffee, made with the Pavoni machine. Black with foam on top.
And it is finished now too.
Now the sons alarm clocks go off again, increasing their aggression with regard to the sleeper. The time of solitary relaxation is drawing to an end, the click and tick of the clocks a reminder of this.
Tick tock and then a click clack every thirty seconds.

There is light from the street lamps outside the window projecting the image of the struts between the panes of glass onto the wall in the unlit room. A whitish light, now that the lamps have been changed to diode technology, the town saving energy. A light sufficient to barely see by, here, at the table. The screen of the newly-repaired laptop computer glows too, showing the words as they are written, letter by letter. The light from the other side, from the kitchen, is yellow by comparison. They are different diodes in the lamps, the lamps that go into the screw-in fittings on the ceiling.
The wife is still sleeping, the cat on her bed, sleeping too, but occasionally opening an eye to check the surroundings. The son has probably fallen asleep again too, his intentions of getting up early having died with the sound of his alarm clocks.

And now it is six thirty seven.
Perhaps there will be time to practice more Portuguese today, perhaps to read some notes in French.
The writing is done in English, and German is spoken every day.
Europe is a strange place made up of barriers, barriers between languages if not between states or between businesses.
It is Sunday, and the time of rest is coming to an end, even today.

he likes it too

sit in the cafe with the son, he with a coke in a plastic bottle. Enjoy the bavarian Kücherl, he has a fatty Bienenstich, sit at the high bench because the tables are all occupied. Are both occupied, it is a tiny café, more a bakery than anything else. There is an old man with an inarticulate voice. He may have suffered from a stroke, his voice sounds like that. It is a reminder of the father, some years ago, just before he died. But this man is well enough, he can walk, and he can talk a bit.

Sit there, listen to the son tell me all about computers. Later, we will go and collect this apple from repairs, the shop is opened on a Saturday. There are so many things that need to be done about the house at this weekend. The weekend will never be long enough.
But the café in the morning is great, and it is good that the son likes it too.

stimulant

turning left off the main road into the campus, the campus that has been the workplace for the last twenty six years. There is fog, and the big Mercedes coming in from the opposite direction and turning right just takes the right of way.
Size matters.

There are building sites everywhere on campus, find a spot to park the blue car, use a temporary parking space,
Crunch across the gravel to the basement entrance, find that it is still locked, so take another entrance, fifty metres away.
There is a pendulum hanging from the ceiling here, a pendulum with a dial underneath it. Foucault's pendulum, a small version, but for real. It hangs from the high ceiling in a stairwell, swinging back and forth, friction counteracted by the cunning use of an electromagnet. Climb the stairs,  watch the pendulum go back and forth, steadily and silently. The dial on the stairwells floor shows the current direction of the swinging pendulum with a cunning mechanism using blue diodes to mark the direction of the pendulums swing.
Walk through the passage on the bridge between the two buildings, looking out onto the foggy yard below through the round porthole - like windows.
The refuse collectors have just arrived, a big dumpster backing into the yard.

It is just past six in the morning, the building has not been awakened yet.

In the office, turn on the coffee maker.
Coffee is a favourite drug.
A stimulant
As stimulant so needed

And and and

Thursday 18th tctuber zo is

at ihe 1ns stop, say good morning to dolores. The

man with the bog cotton hair is silent today

no hello, nothing. He is deep in some thought.

The walrus-like bus driver takes the fare money

exactly counted today. sit down at the back of

the bus, that hhhis where memory slips UWIM The

station, caught in left over dreams from last ngl,

untill the forecourt of the brightly lit railway

station, jump from the bus to the raised paoema

for pedestrians, walk along behind a young

woman in light btmhtrousen, the outline of

a 'phone showing on the left hand taeh pocket,

thread the way through the haytasardky

placed licydes, greet the snoher at his spot

by the ash tray, okmh the stairs, leave the

light trousers with the phone outline, ga

pin the line at the cafe and wait.

give the bald headed bearded man The

discount card and a coin for the coffee,

he makes a cup and gwes the charge,

returns the newly-stumped card with

the change from the cain, serving other

customers all the white, taking orders.

and the tte cup, get a plastic lid

and g e-to the small metal stool at The

back of the cafe, sit at the table.

somebody has written things on the

table with a sharp instrument at some

hind, but what does it matter?. The

boards the table top is made of are

very thick, they will not be seriously

damaged by all of this. Memories one

of school, fifty years ago. Desks in

the hall in Stephens green in Dublin,

deeply carved with the names and initio,

of past students.

The coffee is terrible, bitter and burning

on the mouth. Drink it quickly, it is not

an enjoyable beverage today. start to

write these notes, then finish, gather

up the pen, the notebook, the bag and

the mug of coffee and go to the platform.

There is a goods train in the station,

all the dark rusty wagons blocking the

light, hhrhig the view over all of those

illuminated plot forms.

And at platform six, finish the

coffee and discard the mug in a nearby

waste paper container.

and when the train is in,

batten on the carriage door

And when it opens, sliding, step in.

Diode light

Wed, 17th October 2018

There are cars, sneaking through the pedestrian

zone, short-cutting a few minutes off the morning's

way to work. They weave in and out of the

red and white fencing that the workmen have

left standing around the holes that they have made

in the road. They are regardless of safety rules,

driving quickly, sure that there are no pedestrian

about at this hour.

There is dolores, progressing slowly towards

the bus stop, circumventing the workmen's

fencing, letting the cars pass by..She sits

down in the bus shelter, as she does every

day, saying her good morning to the new

arrival. Another car speeds out of the

pedestrian zone, the man on board playing

loud music. The music is louder than the

car engine. But it serves as a warning of

his coming.

The bus driver's displeasure at having

to change a ten Euro note is quite

obvious.. He is a bald-headed

man with a moustache, which makes

him look like a walrus.

Sit down at the rear end at the

bus, and then look out of the window

at all the passing traffic,

and the buildings.

There is a fashion now of illuminating

things with blue lights, blindingly-

blue coloured diode lights. The

entrances to a block of flats have

been decorated in this way.

It is not really an improvement.

There is no smoker in front (f. the

railway station building today.

Headlamp

Tue, 16th October

Blue bins in the alley today, in front of every house.

They contain paper refuse, all to be used for recycling

The door closes loudly, not quite a slam, but

noisy.

And there is only lamplight under a black

sky, there must be high cloud up there some ik

Today. On the main street there is a distant

glare from the headlamp of a bicycle. It is so

bright that the bicycle behind it is invisible.

Maybe it is one of those electrically assisted

bicycles, they go faster, they need better illumina­tion..

Dolores greets, a loud "good morning". Return

her greeting, then the other two men arrive.

Then the bus, pay the driver his money,

and take a seat in the rear patt of the

vehicle.

Then the smoker at the station, at the

pillar ashtray. Wish him a good morning

A long line in the early morning cafe,

there is only one person on service.

Descending the stairs to the tunnel, see that

the Mühldorf Train is just coming into the

station.

dog star

Monday, 15th of October

-

Theere is a brightght star visible from the bus stop, high over the hill at the end of the Town over the trees. It is bright and clear despite all of the street lamps of the small town.

Use the app on the phone to identify it.

It is Sirius, the dog star.

By the time all this is finished, and the app is closed see that Dolores, the bog cotton man and the municipial man are all there, waiting,

at the bus stop.

Waiting for the bus.

Who cares about Sirius or Orion's belt.

at the railway station, wish the smoker a good morning, get a paper cup of coffee in the cafe, complete with a plastic lid.

go out to the platform early, to see if. the stars are visible from there.

They are not. There is a cloud, or fog in the way. Too bad.

The train rushes in at a high speed today, the first part  of the train ,usually already waiting, is↳ not there today.

Bat

In the night, a fluttering sound in the dark. On the bed, face up. There is a fluttering noise and then a draught on the face. And the fluttering continues, back and forth.

In the pitch black of this earlySunday morning.

Back and forth.

In the dark? Never to hit a wall, never to miss.

Bat.

Get up and turn on t.  he small light ar the writing desk.

A tiny bat flies back and forth in the room. 

It flies back and forth, rais the hand and it circles around. Now there ar high squeaks to be heard, the bat has a voice.

Open the window, so that the creature can leave.

It does not realise that the window is open, or else it does not want to leave.

Try to shoo it out, no effect. It is flying around the top of the room, the room is tall, the window is lower. It stops at the wall, hanging there. A tiny animal wrapped in it's naked black skin wings.

Try to catch it, an angry squeaking, fright, let it go.

The wife awakens, says "oh, a bat", and goes back to sleep.

The cat comes in, stares at the cieling, Not comprehending but very interested.  

Shoo the cat out, successfully.

Turn off the light, go back to bed leavingthe window open.

There is the whine of a mosquito.

Wave the invisible pest away. There is a flutter of bats wings.

Later ther is a clatter from the window, the bat has left.

The mosquito isno longer ther either.

Celebrating last night

Saturday,five ocklock ite morning is spent unconscious.

That is the way it should be, at the weekend.

Stay in bed as the wife gets up to make herself a cup of coffee. Stay in bed, smell the whiff of coffee, mmmm.

Get up, make a cup of coffee.

Sit at the desk, try to read the news.

The thought is nice, but it is just hard to concentrate.

Later,  go to the cafe.

Say hello to the tenant down in her office, working hard to get things done for the months end.

In the cafe, there are two young blonde women discussin the pictures of camels on their mobile phones. They have apparently just returned from a holiday in Egypt. No problem. But they have taken the best seats in the cafe, the ones the son was hoping for. Too bad, settle for less pleasant seats at the high table on the high chairs.

And then, take a walk through the town. Go to the bank, replenish the wallet with cash, replace all that was spent last night, celebrating.

warning beep signals the closure

Friday, 12 th of October.

The discount card is stamped, the money taken.

The cafe is quiet today, it is Friday. There are

just the two service people behind the bar, the

big bald man with the beard, and the small

woman with the mole on her chin. They both

wear yellow T-shirts, that is part of the cafe

uniform.

Take the coffee to the small table where the

customers can serve ihemselves with lids,

and, if they wish, put sugar and milk into

their coffee.

Put a lid on the coffee, make it snap into mud.

There is a hole in the lid, an aperture to allow

drinking, but most of the top surface of the

mug is sealed, preventing spillage. There

is a taste of paper cup and plastic in the

coffee, this is not a perfect solution.

check the telephone for mail, there is a job

that is something that will need to be dealt with later. There is no news today.

At six, get up from the small table in the

eofe‘s waiting room and go to platform No. 6.

The way via the long subterranean tunnel is

empty today, and there is nobody on the platform yct. Look at the clock, it is two

minutes early. The small diesel train is just

coming into the station, all the way over on

platform one. It is from Miihtdof. It will

leave again in ten minutes to head on To

Rosenheim, a small track with no

electrification.

Now the platform fills, commuters leaving

the small train come over to continue their

journey towards Munich.

But there are still few people on the platform

compared to yesterday. It really must

be because of Friday.

When the train arrives, watch the people

gather at the doors, waiting for them to

open. Wait untill they have all boarded the

near-empty train, then walk across the

platform, entering just as the warning beep signals the closure of the doors.

Three minutes

Thursday, 11th of October 2018

listen to the banter in the café, the big man

with the yellow shirt is teasing the young

woman, bath behind the counter, both enjoying

a lull in the flow of customers. Her name is

Andrea, and she has heavy black-rimmed

glasses.

The cafe is bright, almost glaring, fluorescent

tubes hidden behind white translucent plastic

panels, diode spots in the cieling over the

serving area. It is all very clean with

tall stacks of paper cups behind the counter.

It is hard work now for the people on service,

it will be easier later when the morning rush

hour has passed.

Sit at the table, watch the building workers come

and go, watch th fussy man go to the counter for

his second and third cup of coffee. He always

uses his own cup.

On the way to the platform, pass the

Jehovah's nitnesses standing beside their

trolley in the basement. They have a stock of

pamphlets, which they give away, written

works describing and explaining their faith.

On the platform the train is just coming m,

board it as soon as it stops. From the

seat in the carriage, the next platform is

visible. It is illuminated with newly-erected

diode lamps, they have a comparitively more cyan colour than the lights an all

of the other platforms.

That bluely-lit platform is pristine; it

is brand new. There are no spots of chewing gum on its surface, all is clean

and neat. And, all in that strange cyan

light.

The other passengers in the carriage

are sleeping, lying back in their seats with

their eyes closed, one has shaded his

eyes from the fluorescent yellow glare in

the carriage with the hood of his jacket.

The television screen by the exit of

the train shows that the next stop will

be Moosburg, at six eighteen, in

three minutes.

And ten minutes after that, the train

will be in Freising.

The smokers area.

Wednesday 10th of October The cat appears, rubs it's head upon the trousers, just put on. The cat is expecting a dollop of cat food upon it's green plate in the kitchen. go to the kitchen with the cat in attention.  Open the refrigerator. There is an opened can in there, but it is empty. so open a new tin, put the spoonful of food upon the plate.. The cat feeds.

The alley is foggy again today, the whole town is covered in fog. Fog ,the thought of which, speaks of mysteries where mysteries are unlikely The fog is thicker down by the river and in around the deserted bus stop. The vista is reduced to an area around the bus stop an area glowing with the light diffused spreading from the street lights. see the headlights and the destination board of the bus approach out of the fog, then the whole vehicle becomes visible.
 Just as the bus arrives, the figure if the municipal man emerges from the fog. He has arrived just in time. Pay the driver with a ten Euro note, he has to give change today. The railway station is bright and glaring, the fog diffusing the light form the hallway inside, letting it spread over the large paved forecourt,

lighting the man standing alone with his cigarette. There is a square painted . upon the pavement, and a pillar ashtray in the centre.
The smokers area. Say good morning in passing Recognition by the woman in the cafe, she knows the order, an inquiring 'Large coffee' in German with an Italian accent.

The big man with the bald head and the beard takes the discount card. It is full today, so the coffee is free. He gives a new card, reaching over ihe counter, smiling. He is a friendly man, and man with a sense of humour.

Hidden in the fog

Tue, 9th of October

The cat is attentive today, staying close,

rubbing the bony feline head on the bare human legs. It is purring loudly. It was waiting outside the bathroom for the human to finish his morning activities.

go to the kitchen, put some cat food from the

tin in the refrigerator onto a plate, the cat starts to feed. Put on the jacket, the cat is there again, out of the door, and half way down the stairs. 

It waits there, looking down

onto the hallway. Look back, the cat is still there, half way up the stairs, looking.

Close the door, there is fog in the alley, with the lights in the street, the fake lanterns look

like lights from a dickens novel-The grey

bins are out, but it is too late now. The

wife will need to do that, later on, if

she is up in time.

It is half past five in the morning, mer

There is a roar of traffic from the main road,

A police car rumbles over the cobbles, it 's

driver is in a hurry.

Step out at the way.

The bus stop is deserted,

the other side of the river hidden in the fog.

Tell the money out from the wallet into the Jan d, the money needed for the fatwre. It

is best to be prepared, it is lost to have

the exact fare ready. And on the arrival

of the bus, pay the driver and sit.

And-read about a DNS-server in

america, telling secrets on the president.

At the bus station by the railway

station the smoker is chatting to the bus

driver. Maybe he has given up cigarettes..

Today, the woman with the round

face and the dark-rimmed glasses

places the last stamp onto the discount

card.

There will be free coffee tomorrow.

A grunt understood

Mon, 8th of October

Be awakened at five by the sounds from

the tablet on the butler stand by the bed.

get up, go to the bathroom, stand before the

mirror, brush the teeth,

select the clothing for the day, go into the

sitting room searching for the glasses. There

they are, carelessly put down on the table last

night. Put the glasses on, and take up the

two plates left lying about last night.

Leave them. in the kitchen. The cat looks up

with a lazy stare. She is not in a mood

for food today, she stays on the sofa, just

looking.

Read the news on the telephone, wait

for the bell on the church tower of saint

Martin's church to sound.

There is fog over the river, the headlights

of the cars make long fingers of light in

the air, even the headlights reflected in the

windows of the hotel on the opposite Bank of

the river do this. There are criss-crossing

beams of light everywhere.

The bog cotton man wishes a good

morning, in german. The "guten Morgen"

is truncated to a grunt. A grunt understood.

Pay the bus driver, sit down in the rear

part of the bus, behind the concertina-like

joint. sit there, watch people get on and off

 at the four stops. There is the black

women with the very long hair, she is wearing

her monday trousers, black and white camoflage.

The station is quiet, the smoker is not at

his usual place. He is chatting to one

of the bus drivers. No good morning from him today.

Montag, and let us see, what the

week will bring.

A German habit

Still dark, get up. The body signals that it is time to go to tthe bathroom, go, return. In the kitchen, take an apple, eat.
It is before seven, but there is light and there are sounds coming from the son's room. Look in, there are three monitors glowing amidst a most awful mess, stacks of things, dismembered computers, monitors both digital and analog, there is the son, studying something on the big analog screen that is his favourite. He ets up, and suggests that we go to the cafe, early, to avoid the crowds.

Go back to the bathroom, take a shower. Use the towel hanging from the hook to dry the damp body and the wet hair.

Then make a cup of coffee, in the usual way, and sit down at the small desk, to read the news. See that Justice in America has lifted her blindfold over her right eye. The woman with the scales threatens to have lost her balance.

Then join the son for a morning walk through a damp dawn October town, past the still-sleeping church. Even on a Sunday, the priest is not up, and the organist is not awake yet either.
Be first at the cafe, order a cup of coffee, the son takes a coke from the rack, cake and a brezel, all in all , that is a breakfast.
Take the trays with the purchases out to one of the tables in the street. Sit and eat and drik and talk a bit.
A few tables further on a man starts to re- arrange the tables, putting two together, in expectation of his friends. A woman joins him, she is carrying a tray.
And that is the end of the mornings peace and quiet. The couple are joined by another wome
An, and all commence a shouted conversation.
A German habit

So that is the end of breakfast, commence a walk about town, along the river, over the bridges, by the power plant, admire the displays of all the shops, all closed for Sunday.

Tree with LED

Climb up a steep grassy sslope with a hedge on top. The hedge has a gap, crawl through. There is a road with a lay-by at the bottom of the slope. Hear voices, and a ebaby crying. it is dark. Lie there behind the hedge, in pain due to the backache, listen to the voices.

Then look farther up the hill, there is a line of trees and bushes. Get up and walk towards them, There is a gap.. In the gap, a bare-branched deciduous tree decorated with coloured lights.
Move towards this, hear a sound of volces, increasing in volume as the distance diminishes. A Voice calls out "ther he is", look over, ther are friends left earlier at a table.
Then try to reach them, there are benches, occupied, in the way. People are not unhelpful, but there is no way to pass.

Collapse immobile, crippled, the scene goes dark.

Waken to the grey light of a Saturday morning, in bed at home, back pains.

Remember all the coloured lights on the tree
In the dream.

go

hearthe honking sound from the son's iphone, a wakening call.
Get up, after a while.
Go to the kitchen, hear the honking sound from his room again.
Go to the coffee grinder, press the button, listen to the noise.
Go to the coffee machine, release the sieve, turn it on.
Go to the sink, empty the old coffee grounds into the waste container.
Go back to the coffee grinder fill the sieve.
Go to the coffee machine, put a cup under it and press the button.

The son gets up, gets dressed, ready to go to school-
and then panic-
his key is gone.

After a while, suggest that he look in the bathroom.
That is where it is, panic over.
he goes to school
All this go go gogo gaga

free drinks

the sons alarm clock sounds, think: there is no need to get up now, it is an overtime day.
A day on which there is no need to go to work.

Stay in bed stay asleep.

There is the sound of the coffee maker, the grumbling sound of the Pavoni pressure pump.
The son, making coffee? He is too young, he does not normally drink coffee.
The sound of the bedroom door opening, the son brings in a cup for the wife.
Then he sees his father there, he is not at work, he exclaims "Oh"

He returns to the kitchen,
There is the sound of the coffee maker, the grumbling sound of the Pavoni pressure pump.

The son brings in another cup of coffee.
That is very nice of him, it is now seven thirty.
Say good morning and thank you.
It is a kind luxury, coffee brought whilst still in bed.

But hear him leave the house.
The coffee is beside the bed.
Nod off.

Ten minutes later the coffee is cold, drink it more quickly,
Go to the bathroom.
Last nights clothing is still there.
A waiter slipped and fell at the restaurant last night.
Two half litres of beer all over
the trousers and the floor.
It was not far to go home,
to the shower, a change of clothing
and then to return later
to the restaurant, an apologetic waiter, and a few free drinks.

crud

leave the bed for the bathroom, there is the cat outside.
Afterwards, leave the bathroom for the verandah hallway.
Return to the bedroom.
There is the cat.
Let her out into the hallway.
Go to the kitchen, there are layers of filthy dishes, and cutlery everywhere
this has accrued since Sunday last.
crud

Move things about, try not to get the fingers sticky, assemble the coffee grinder.
put in some beans.

Grind.

Clear away the mess from around the coffee maker.
Turn on the machine.
let it heat up.
Then fill the little silver sieve with the fresh ground beans
and make a cup of coffee.

Take it to the bedroom.
to the writing table, put the cup down on a junk mail envelope to protect the table
Turn on the tethered laptop

Read about the world politics
they are in disorder too.

Plaits

Tue, 2nd October, 2018

The hair, long, in hundreds of

tiny plaits hangs over the back at the raised front left-hand seat of the bus.

A black hand reaches back, the spread fingers going through the little, long, plaits, spreading

them, straightening them. The hair, even though it

is plaited, hangs half-way down the back of the seat.

At Hofanger Weg, Dolores gets up, and reaches for the bell push on the pole in the bus. The

young woman with the plaits gets up too,

she moves to follow Dolores, but then changes

her mind as the driver opens the front door of the bus. she turns, and goes out that way.

She walks away, up the street, she has a

quick, bouncy step. Dolores is slow, and

not in the least bouncy.

At the railway station, a small

cobblestone has been removed from

the footpath, and is just lying there,

like a tooth that has fallen out. Just

bigger, and there is no blood. It is a

small stone, about fist-sized.

In the cafe, the girl with the large face

and the dark-rimmed glasses. Her

greeting: "Grosse Kafee" "?"

say" yes please", in german, and hand

over the discount card for stamping, and

a five Euro note.

A low stool is free in the waiting

room. continue with the notes that had

been started on board the bus. The

comments on the hair, written despite

the vibrations and shaking of the bus.

The hair, long, in hundreds of tiny

plaits, hangs over the back at the front

seat. A circuitous thought. Maybe she

is a nurse, finishing night shift up

at the hospital.

hic iacet

the first of October

, he street is shining glistening wet. Rain

has fallen all night, dribbling off all the

gutters. The air is a chilly damp.

Keep the face down, prevent rain from

falling into the eyes.

The tombstones on the wall at the church

are reminders of mortality, with all head

their engraved script announcing eternal

remembrance.

All of those people are now forgotten.

just the engraved type remains.

Hic Jaect-

or hie iacet. And so on.

All are in the bus shelter today, seeking

shelter from the light rain..

Dolores, Hwuuyial man, the boy

cdtw way and another woman.

The bus driver paid, all in done.

An umbrella-covered smoker is just

leaving his post before the station as

the bus arrives there. The weather is too

uncomfortable for him as well.

The bald won with the hoard has

returned to the cafe * whined to service

Still, the woman with the role on

her chin takes the order, the man nuts

the coffee on the counter a short while

later. The coffee, the table at the wall at

the waiting room with the high meant

able stool.

Wait for five minutes, write the date

at the head of these notes, forget to him on

the pen, write the date again.

It is monday, a day of starting misery...

and the Train is full of napkin wet

rain packets.

And in Mustang, it gets fuller.gtM÷.

going to work is awful, a sad journey

on Monday, after what was a lousy

weeharyd.