Broken glass

Friday, 30th November 2018

Waking is hard today. the app on the tablet is

well into its tune and getting louder by the

time it is switched off.

Staggrirto the bathroom, turn on the shower.

Wait untill it warms, it is cold today. go under

the shower, soap and shampoo, seven minutes.

Then dry the old body, and put the towel onto

the rack.

In the bedroom, put on the clothes for the day,

for Friday, a short day. Gather the things

for the day, take the mobile telephone from the

cable where it has been charging.

Walk through the town, there are delivery

trucks and vans in the pedestrian zone, stocking the shops for the weekend. See Dolores standing at the bakery shop, she is buying her daily bread

Proceed on to the bus stop, and wait there. The

road is covered in chips of broken glass.

There must have been an accident during the

night, the glass is all small and granular, like the glass used in cars always is when it has shattered,

Dolores arrives from the bakery stop, her bag is smelling strongly of warm fresh bread.

The doors of the bus do not open at the railway station, the driver has not unlocked Them. It takes a few seconds. The smoker is smoking his cigarette at his usual place next to the ashtray. 

Good Morning

Journalism

Thursday, 29th of November 2018

The alley is dry, and there is the sound of an

early jet arrwaft approaching Munich Airport.

A cyclist approaches, he is wobbling, perhaps

he is not entirely awake yet.

At the corner of

the street there is a new soup kitchen, and there

is the woman and her bicycle who delivers the

newspapers. The basket on the carrier 't fall

of the Landshutr Tagdlat, the local piece of

Journalism.

Dolores in the bus shelter looks sad and

tired today, she only nods her 'good morning'

today. Slad there, tell out the money from the

muse ready for the fore. Watch the traffic with all

of its bright headlights as it passes. The basis

early today, let the others board first. There

is a bicycle just squeezing vast on the pammi

The smoker at the station, a jovial 'guten

Morgan" And in the station bidding itself, the coffee

is ready practically before cshivg. The Bung

women serving started the coffee waychire is

soon as she saw the tall grey-haired man

round the corner.

sit in the waiting room, start to write this

page of notes. Hear the fidgety man in the

background talking about false gifts for

christmas. Christmas is no longer far

away, my way.

Guten morgen

Wednesday, 28Th of November zo is

The alley is dry today, the rain has stopped, The

snow is gone. That was all just an intermezzo, it

was just a break in the warm weather.

walk down the middle of all the cobbled ways

in the traffic restricted areas of Landshut.

There is the sound of tyres rumbling, an early

delivery van is on the road.

The car is waiting at the bus stop again, slow

the pace, there is no wish to be dazzled by the lights

again. The car is waiting for a man who will

join his colleagues on the way to work, a

full car. This is ecologically sensible, but

it would be nice if he could switch his headlamp

of whilst he is standing still and waiting.

But it is only for a few minutes, before the bus comes

the car drives away. Dolores is sitting in the

bus shelter, wish her a good morning.

Read the news on the mobile phone check the

mail. Nothing much has happened, there are

a few more messages telling that 'friends'

have put new pictures into the internet.

Sit down in the meanwhile. arrivéd bus,

after having paid the driver for the fare.

At the midway station say!"guten Morgen'

to the smoker, and get a large coffee from

the young woman with the mole on her chin.

Find the scarf lost yesterday, it was in the bag

all the line.Drink the coffee and be happy.

Smell of fresh bread

Tuesday 27th of November, 20 I 8

There is snow fitting today, the pedestrian

ways are covered in slush, the pavement

on the roads has been treated with salt, it is

just wet and glistening. Walk over the wet

surface, in the old market part of the town

the christmas stalls have been mtt up. Wildly

expensive, low qiality.

Dolores is standing in front of the bakery shop

this morning, waiting to be served. she is

bearing a fur coat today, she wears that every

year when it snows. Later on she arrives al

the bus stop, takes her usual seat in the bus shelter

There is a smell of fresh bread now, from the

bag that. she is carrying. She wishes a happy "goon Mong“

Drizzle

Monday 26 November

The street outside the door is shiny wet, the

cobbles glisten in the lamplight. The back is stiff, the

legs are not warmed to motion yet. And it is

drizzling rain all the way, a drizzle of cold water

caught by the wind. Put up the hood of the

blue jacket under the brown jacket. Two

jackets, one a hoodie, the other one just brown,

with a corduroy collar.

There is Dolores at the bus stop, sitting in

the shelter. She says a sleepy "good Morning"

There is a car waiting with its lights on. The

headlight is insanely dazzling this morning, it is

unpleasant. After a few moments the car moves

on. The bus rounds the distant corner by the old

gaol, watch it approach, the articulated bus

with the bellows in the centre. The motion of

the rear part makes it move like a giant

centipede. A slight swaying around the corner, the

back end bobbing up and down relative to

the front.

At the railway station the damp cold

weather has pervaded the sweher to give up

his cigarette, he has just turned his back to the

rain and is climbing the granite stairs to

the warm, dry and bright station hall.

The bald man with the beard , working at his usual high speed, has the coffee ready before it is asked for.

green plastic plate

Cat stretch, rub the head on the leg of the human, cat stretch up on the kitchen wooden workbench, claws out, up on the hind legs, stretch the paws upward, dig the claws into the wood.
Cats do not say "Ahh"
They purr.

Remove the empty tin from the top of the dresser where it had been carelessly left the evening before.
Rinse it out under the tap.
Throw it into the yellow plastic bag hanging off the regulator of the radiator.

Open the new tin, pull the ring on the top, the creaking sound of tearing metal.
Cat's excitement increases, back arches, eyes upwards.
Put the sloppy fresh cat food onto the green plastic plate.
The plate that belongs to the cat.

Mouth agape the cat pushes the cat face into the food, masticates.

Then make coffee, and toast.
Drink and eat, awaken.

Read the news.
Then put on shoes.

Say goodbye to the spouse
leave the house.

The purpose is to collect the car from the temporary parking space in the school's parking lot. Normally reserved for teachers only, it is free for use over the weekend. And the purpose now is to preclude forgetfulness this evening, for tomorrow all cars not belonging to the staff of the school will be removed.


Walk through the Sunday morning town.
Grey, closed shops and few people out, walking dogs, taking a walk. One woman flapping along jogging on her way through the town, she is determined.

Pass by the Christmas market, there are people at work applying final touches. Christmas markets are held in almost every town now, Christmas cheer, goodwill, mulled wine and stuff like that. It is all much to expensive, and the wine is of such low quality and so highly sugared that many of those who partake too fondly of it are ill on the way home, leaving the result of their consumption in the streets.

And the music is the same every year- Jingle bells, O Tannenbaum, and  the White Christmas.
The weather is much too warm for all of that.

And after ten minutes walk, find the car and drive back through town, find a legal parking spot not far from home. Last night's revellers have left many spaces free.

LATER

awoken early today by the groaning sound of an untuned radio alarm. Hear it for some ten seconds, th
en hear the son struggle to find the button to turn it off.
And some minutes later hear the same performance again.
It is still dark, there is only the dimmest city light coming in through the window. Grey and sad.
It is raining outside.

The cat complains from the door to the bedroom, it wants to get out.

Get up and let it out.
Gone.
Silence.

The sky is lightening outside, dawn is on its way, dawn light heralding a grey wet day.

There is the sound of a klaxon from the son's mobile 'phone. Hear him struggle to turn it off.
Go into his room, he is in his high bunk bed, Shake his foot, ask him if he would like to get up and go to the café. His answer is a groan, an assent, and the request- LATER.

The weekend will consist of tasks pushed on, pushed ahead, deferred,
Tiredness is an excuse.

mushroom

Friday 23rd of November
Whilst putting on shoes in the small hallway between the bathroom and the bedroom and the entrance to the  flat hear a sound. Look up, it is the son, hi is up early as well. Ask him if he is worried about his school examinations today. He says that he is not, he just woke up early today. He hugs his father, a nice thing to do early in the morning.
There is a woman with a bicycle in the alley today, she is delivering newspapers. These are newspapers for the neighbours, for people that have ordered them. She has a long list, the basket on the back of her bicycle is full of neatly folded newspapers.
Wish her a good morning.

In the main street somebody has put up a parasol. It belongs to one of the cafe`s,  a café that has taken all of the summer furniture away from the street. The parasol was probably erected by some reveller during the night. It is out in the middle of the street like some enormous mushroom.

Go on down to the bus stop. The road works have receded now, the orange fencing is now blocking the path that leads alongside the river.

Glass fibre

Thursday. 22 nd of November

sitting on the cvair by the bed, waiting, then put

on a pair of shoes. The cat silently walks over

and past stands there, beside the bed, beside the

chair, waiting. Reach down and put the cat's

head. The cat purrs, and then wanders off to

the kitchen.

Put the flat phone into the pocket and go out into

the hallway, take the wallet from the small cabinet

on the wall, then comb the hair. The cat has

returned, sits there and looks. Pat the small

animal's head again. Open the door, the

cat remains inside.

The surface of the streets and alleys is

glistening wet, the fog has deposited moisture

evenly on every stone surface. At the

corner the delivery truck form the bakery,

it has finished it 's errands early and is

rumbling along over the cobbled surfaces of

the market place.

At the end of the old town, at the

town gate, the streets are blocked by the

red and white plastic barricades of

the road works. They are laying new

cables of glass fibre to enhance the

public's ability to enjoy the Internet, in

all of it 's many forms.

Wish Dolores a good morning at the

bus stop, and stand there in the cold damp

waiting for the bus to the railway station.

Grit

Wed, 21st of November

take the hot shower, wash the
hair. Just a few minutes, then return to the bed room. This is the

same thing as everyday, every day. Do not

really care for much now, there is so little to be aware of. Sleep was plenty, and yet it was

too short.

Leave the house, it is cold and dry today.

It has not really pained for a long time, the

dry weather has become quite normal. Those

few flakes of snow over the last week will

make no difference. There is less water ammo

than there should be.

-

The street leading to the bus stop has teen

uepaived, the whites all ptdteswrath Mpkcar.

There is just a dust wg of grit ever He

replaced stones, this will go as time passes.

The bakery is being re-stacked, the large

delivery truck has put stopped in the middle

of the road, the driver is unloadingg the

plastic tray g of pre-baked produce. The

sales assistant is helping him. They are both

conversing in load voices in the silence of

the early morning.

A police car speeds in the opposite dorection,

passing close, regardless.

Wish dolores a good morning. She is

well wrapped up against the cold today

62

Follow the red tail rear lamps,as they come closer, touch the brake, as they go farther away, push down a little on the accelerator. There is traffic coming in from the slip road, change to the left lane. The car ahead is close now. The lane to the right fills up, the aggressive drivers attempting to take over the road, to cut over on to the left lane.
Pass the slow truck, there has been an accident, police car and flashing blue lights. There is a glimpse of  a car facing the wrong way with a crushed snout.
The driver had a bad start to the day.

Now the traffic is moving faster again, the car behind is but a few meters away. A person in a hurry. Do not accelerate, do not allow that person to intimidate, do not react with anger, it would be stupid. The many small lights  on the front of the following car come closer, each headlight surrounded by a group of smaller lights, like a luminescent eye makup. They are angry lights. The truck is passed now, check the mirror image and pull over to the left lane, into the dark space there. The white car that had been bullying has now passed, cutting in ahead, onto the left lane, onto the slip road, red lights flare, and it leaves the motorway on the slip road to the airport. The point was: To visibly make an effort and to show that you are in a hurry.
It is unclear how this drivers day is starting.

Leave the motorway via the slip  road for Freising south, and join the traffic on the side roads. There is an industrial area, huge warehouses with proud illuminations of their brands, early morning trucks  waiting at traffic lights.

With all the distraction, overlook the yellow sight for Dietersheim. Use the brakes to slow down as a reaction to the blinking road sign showing the number "62" in huge red letters. A speed warning, this is a village that is right on the main road. Slow down. There are many trucks parked outside a roadside bakery, their drivers taking an early morning break.
It is not far to work now, it is twenty five to seven in the mornig.
And it is dark and cold

blue

it is dark beyond the glass, the lights illuminate the bright flakes in the air. The lights ahead, the red ones to the rear of the vehicle ahead, are haloed hazy by the snow flakes, the flickering as they brighten.
The right foot hits the middle pedal, gently, let the twin red glows of the flat bed trailer ahead approach, it slows more and more, press the pedal some more, the lights stay their distance. It is a trailer that usually has a container on board, it is now moving slowly along the choked Autobahn, sometimes faster than the long string of taillights on the left, sometimes faster.
Follow.
Snow falling, and an overheated car.
Open the window, rush of traffic.
All is moving slowly.

A van from the Tschek Republic has left the road and is lying on its side in the ditch.
There are two police cars there, blue flashing lights a handsome contrast to the long chain of red tail lights.

The traffic is moving more smoothly now, drift on slowly on the way to work.

Listen to the radio, concentrate, the posts on the right hand side of the road slipping past one by one.
Every fifty metres.

?muse

Awake in the dawn, sometime near seven. Awake and go to the bathroom, cross the cold tiles of the hall, over the bare wooden boarding on the floor of the balcony. The bathroom is cold.
So hurry and return to the bedroom
Remember to close the doors, though these are not especially well insulated, but still, every little helps to keep the warmth inside the building.

Sit at the small wooden desk. The one that was fixed up a bit in an amateur way, so that it would become useable and pleasant to look at. So that the writing surface that folds out would remain level, to be useable as a writing surface. Open the little laptop computer, work the keyboard, there is mail.
Delete the seven or eight offers of salacious pleasures, the offers of theatrical sexual pleasures, the professional offers of favours, the false charities. There is an article from the New Yorker on climate change. It is well written, sober, decisive. A call on government to do something.
It is depressing, for the people who elect the government, the electorate, will not elect a government that lets their desires  for today be neglected at the cost of satisfying the needs of the future. Perhaps too, many believe that the ability to move faster will enable them to reach the carrot. Perhaps insane acceleration will compress the stick. Perhaps.

Go to the kitchen, make a cup of coffee. It is peaceful, the family is asleep. The awful mess has been reduced, ever so slightly.

The article is read, the cup of coffee is finished.

What is left to do, but to get up and take another?

daylight

up and all are still asleep, that is habit, habit for earliness, and comfort of the weekend letting things be a little bit later.
Seven in the morning, make a small breakfast.
for one, not for those asleep.
Sit in the kitchen, between all the overloaded surfaces, things used once and left were they were used, a marmalade pot with a spoon still in it, the lid to the left on the surface.
The drip tray of the coffee machine not emptied, the dishwasher open, a few items removed, the remainder not needed, so left in the machine.
There is a bill on the floor, an invoice from a building suppliers. That firm requires cash payment, the bill should have been kept for tax purposes.
But now it is on the floor.

And as time goes on:
And  so see the place in daylight for the first time this week
Daylight is good clear light.
But it is not merciful

And the prospect of all day to fix the situation
is not pleasant

interpretation of the King James Bible

The railway station cafe is efficient again today, the bald man with the beard is back, and the customers seem to have their coffee and whatever else they want before they ask. There is no line, and yet there is a constant stream of orders.

Kaffee, Cappo, Cappo Mitschoko, Latte, Grosser Kaffee.

It all is called across the counter, and the money taken and the acounts settled and the discount cards stamped, all at once, a steady disorder.

But it seems to work.

Sit at the table just vacated by Norbert Hedgehog, he says good morning and goes away. He has a black leather jacket on over his overall today, a knitted cap on his skull.

Watch the  cafe crew, they do brew, and stew make and do.

And afterwards go down the granite stairs in the tiled stairwell on the first platform, along the long tiled corridor unter the tracks, passing the illuminated posters and the witnesses of Jehovah, them peddlers of their interpretation of the King James Bible, and climb a similar granite stair up to the platform No 6.

And the DI eXpress is just arriving.

Board, there is a nice warm seat

ahhh

Friday

Top of the page

Thursday, 15th November.

The bus arrives at the railway station, get up, and

get out. Walk through the bicycle park, there is barely

a path left to follow. The bicycles have long since

stopped using the provided cycle stands, they are

all occupied. A large part of the station forecourt's

occupied with bicycles, standing on their own

stands and waiting for their owners to return in

the evening.

The smoker is there with his cigarette, and

his rucksack. Wish him a good morning, and

climb the granite stairs leading up to the automatic

station doors.

Inside, go over to the cafe and order a cup of coffee.

There are two young Romanian women serving

today.

Take the coffee to a table just vacated by Norbert

Hedgehog in the cafe. Norbert Hedgehog is the

nickname for a friendly worker who always

wears a blue overall. Or a green one. He

has his name on the breast pocket, whatever the

colour. He has been here since this journal started,

on and off for the last five years.

Sit, drink the coffee, watch the man with the

fidgets, rush back and forth, and get his second

cup of coffee. With the illness of the last few

days gone, enjoy the coffee at the small

table, and start these notes by writing the date

at the top of the page.

Water

Wed, 14th of November.

There are ydbw bags out in front of all of

the houses in the alley. these yellow bags unto

all of the plastic packaging waste produced

in the households,

Yellow plastic bags filled with yoghurt

containers, and the foil packaging for cheeses

and the like.

At the bakery by the town gate, there is

dolores coming out of a side street. she

is wearing a knitted cap to keep her head

warm. We say our good mornings →

Wait at the bus stop, the bog cotton

man passes by, on his way to the place

where he always waits for the bus, where

he always smehes a cigarette.

The bus arrives. as does the taxi other.

Wish him a good morning, and pay the

fate.

The illness experienced yesterday has

receded today, but still, do not drink coffee in

the morning. Buy a tittle of water in The

station raft.

And go to work

the night was stomach pain, kept on awakening to hear the near snores and the distant clock in the kitchen. kept on awakening, keep on awakening, a pain in the upper stomach.
Not nice, all that was wanted was sleep.

Then the pain seems to slip down, like a ballon that has lost air. Down into the gurgling guts, now an urgent desire to go to the toilet.
The bathroom, for american readers.
Whilst there, an urge to vomit.
No great result, but feel a little better.

Stay awake until, the alarm sounds, get up, go to the desk, turn the asinine melody off.

Bathroom, turn the shower on. A sudden fit of retching.
Gastric 'flu, or some such nonsense.
No particular reason.
Finish the shower, then make sure that the bowels will stay as they are, 00.

And then go back to the bedroom, put on fresh underclothes.
And the rest of the clothes too.
And go to work.

The bus stop is queasy, the bus is horrible, sit there with the eyes tight shut.
The railway station, just walk past the café, any of that would provoke a disaster, no coffee today.

Instead, wait out on the cold platform, wait for the train to come in.

Work is going to be horrible today.

Ten minutes

.

Mon, November 12

look at the glowing figures of the watch with

dark, there are tenements left, ten minutes

with five.

Just before five the morning, get up and

walk over to the small writing table. Turn on the deskside light, and watt for thirty seconds.

At five exactly, as the church bells sounds 

outside, the tablet lights up, and the melody

starts.Stop written on the glowing screen.Reach down and put the finger on it.

The sound stops.

Go to the bathroom and take a shower,

and return, find clean underpants and socks

and a vest in the wardrobe, and put on

all the rest of the clothes.

gather up the glasses, the watch and the mobile phone from the table. Take the jacket from the hook  in the hall, and put it on. Then the

overcoat, the light one. It is an unusually

hot and dry autumn

'In the alley, a man takes his bicycle and

carries it over the stair of his entrance.

Every entrance has a stair on that side of

the street • The man goes back, locks the

door, returns to his bicycle.

Pass, ignore him, walk across the

grey cobble stones down to

the river, past the stones  comemorating the

victims of injustice in the past. 'those

stones are brass, with inscriptions.

The bus stop, and the attendant shelter.

Dolores sits down in the shelter, a wide

and friendly smile Today. The bog cotton

man, with his gruff greeting.

Later, after the short bus ride, wish the

smoker at the station his good morning. He

has just arrived, he is just taking out his

cigarette.

In the cafe there is a man with an

unlit cigarette in his mouth, a hand

rolled one, the unlit tip is a twist of paper.

97 ekh as the style of cigarettes containing

. hush, or pot. Just smaller. He orders

u coffee with milk.

Take the black coffee to the small table

with the comfortable stool in the corner

of the waiting room.

Start the first ten lines of these notes

good intentions

At the table, the night clothes covered in a dressing gown, for warmth.
There is an empty cup of coffee on the table, along with two empty bottles of water, and a water glass. The coffee is today's, the two empty bottles, the half full glass of water, the scissors, the corner of some milk typ carton that had held apple sauce.
There is also a pencil sharpener, an electronic calculator, a rubber pencil mark eraser and a geometry aid, a triangular ruler.

A pliers and a salt shaker too.

It would be nice if things were not just left lying around, carelessly.
But the table is the only tidy surface in the room

Everything else is covered with the leavings of the son and the wife.
This is a type of loneliness, they are both in bed asleep, despite their good intentions to be up early

pick up the cup and the computer and return to the bedroom to get some day clothes on.

galloping horse

out of the house with the son to go to the local cafe
walk down the alley, around the corner into the new street market.
Markets are held on Fridays.

Walk on down towards the war memorial, a grotesque mass of statuary, freshly cleaned by a firm of stonemasons.
Pass that, and then there on the right is the cafe, cross the road.

The son selects a bottle of drink from the refrigerated shelving.
And the father orders a cup of coffee, and a piece of Schmalzgebäck.

Sit down and talk, as other people come and go, collecting their bakery orders, stopping for a cup of coffee.
Talk about computers, their memory requirements.

A large car is parked outside the glass front now, a huge sportscar, with a galloping horse on the centre of the wheel hubs, and a "5.0" lettered onto its flank in chromium plated letters. Despite the size, it seems only capable of transporting one person and the driver in comfort. The driver enters the cafe, he is angry faced now, perhaps because the grey short haired father and his red headed long haired son are sitting in the choice place by the window

He takes a stool and sits by the counter, drinking quickly in his discomfort.
The same man had a yellow sports car in the previous summer.
That one had the same horse motif
the same logo
the same expression of power and speed

Dung

Friday, 9 November 2018

good morning to Dolores, at the bus stop, this

dark morning.. She raises her face, hair

straggling on either side, widens her mouth in

a smile and returns the greeting. Stand and

wait at the corner of the bus shelter, watch the

traffic pass on the main road. This is still

the main road between Regensburg and

Rosenheim. In some years soon, there will

be a bypass around Landshut, a huge

bifurcated ed road allowing higher speeds and

greater traffic densities.

The bog cotton man arrives, walking slowly

He raises his head in a cheerful 'good morning,

He has had his hair cut short, it is now

white stubble on his head.

An empty animal transport truck

passes, "the two or three tiers of pens

all brightly illuminated. After it has

passed there is a strong smell of animal

dung, the pens have not been hosed down, they are still dirty.

The bus arrives, pay the driver.

There is no smoker at the railway station

today. The service person behind the

counter in the cafe today is slow and

confused. And the waiting room is noisy

'

Time

Thursday, November 8

There is the awakening sound of the alarm clock,

getting steadily louder as time passes. A few

seconds after it has started, get up and turn

it off. Be sure to press the area on the screen

that says' stop', and not the one that says 'snoooze'.

Get on to the bathroom, let the water run hot,

have a shower. Maybe this will drive off the

sleep, the sleep that is trying to sneak back again.

A long search for the glasses ensues, it is

silly, they should be where they should be. Finish

dressing, then go to the little chest where they

should be and find out that they are not there.

Panic sets in, go to the living room, turn the

lights on there. there are no glasses to be found

Go back to the bedroom via the kitchen, ignore

the excitement of the cat. Turn the lights on,

check the windowsills.

The glasses are nowhere, and it is getting late

and then turn the eyes to the left, look at the

top of the bureau. There they are quite

obvious, hiding in plain sight.

In the alley outside the house, a man

with a high visibility waistcoat rides his

bicycle away. He is wearing a knitted hat

with a pom pom on top.

Hurry on down to the bus stop, just being

able to get there on time.

Ritual

Wednesday, November 7

-

the cat appears to have started a new ritual in

the morning, coming into the bedroom in the

morning, and wanting it's head stroked. A

morning ritual, not one that it repeats in the

evening.

Look at the news, the american vote is

split, put a bit.

Walk down to the bus stop, follow a man

talking loudly into his mobile 'phone whlst

riding a bicycle. He has a headset, he seems

to talking loudly to himself.

Say good morning to the people waiting at

the bus stop.

In the railway station cafe, there are two

young woman talking to each other loudly,

they are practically shouting at each other.

A continuous stream of chatter describing

the social intercourse in some training

college. Another man is speaking loudly

Into a mobile telephone in a dreary, loud

complaining voice.

And at two past six, get up to go to

the platform. Just as the small train arrives

from Mühldorf, just changing it's destination

board for Rosenheim. 

Boarding thetrain there is a strong smell of garlic salami. 

Take the next carriage

Talons

Tuesday, 6th of November

The cat jumps onto the chair and  lowers the furry head for petting. Rub the fur between the ears, the cat starts to purr.

Walk down the alley, pass the church. Cross the old market street, and go down the theater street towards the town gate.

And thus leave the old part of the town, and go to the bus stop.

Dolores is looking at the electronic announcements board in concern. It predicts that the bus will arrive  ten minutes late, Wish the bog cotton man  his good morning.

Read the written his timetable on the noticeboard attached to the pole of the bus stop. There has been no change of timetable.

The bus arrives, the driver is a stranger, he is in a hurry, he is ten minutes late.

Leave the bus at railway station, and go straight to the cafe. Over the counter of

glass order a large coffee. The woman making the coffee has multicoloured fake nails, the girl serving the coffee later on has steel-blue talons. There are fake eyelashes on show as well, a strange concept of adornment and beauty.

Daily express

Monday, 5th November

From below the arch of the town gate, see that there are four figures standing at the bus stop. Also, a car has halted there. One

man goes to the rear of the car and opens the hatch  at the back to slowly put in his rucksack. Then, without any hurry he walks over to the rear right hand door and slowly steps into the car, closes the door behind him. The car moves off, and drives over the bridge.

The other three figures are the bog cotton man, who gives a hearty' Guten Morgen, then there is a young woman with dark skin and tight black curls on her

head, and Dolores. Dolores smiles

and wishes a' gut mage' as well.

Watch the bus arrive, it approaches slowly from the distant curve in the long staight

road. The bus is a wide vehicle, bat not as high as the lorries, the trucks that are on the road. This gives it a squat appearance, it's headlamps low

down over the road's surface. The bus

arrives early today, the driver is not

one of the usual ones to take this route.

Give him his money, and find a seat.

Because the bus is early, it remains at the

stop, the doors open, waiting so that it may leave punctually:

The taxi driver arrives, and he is

just in time. The taxi driver is a

punctual person.

Later on, after the bus ride, in the

cafe. Be the first to have a coffee, so it

seems. But the waiting room is full, all

of the seats are occupied.

Take the mug of coffee out to the platform

and stand there in the lamplight

watching all the trains come in. First, the

first half of the Munich train, backing

into the platform

Then the Agilis, to Ingolstadt.

Then the littte Rosenheim train, hiding

behind a goods train, with its roar of diesel engine giving it away.

An then the train to Freising, the one

that stops in Moosburg, the daily express

train.

sniffing at every corner

the shoes on, both the father and the son.
ready to go, to leave the house.
The same path as the regular path to work, up the alley to the church.
The cobbled alley with the tiny narrow footpaths done in heavy red tiles.

There is the sound of the organ from the church, loud, the organ with all the registers pulled by the organist. Walk around the church.
There are two women standing in the middle of the road smoking cigarettes, wearing low priced gaudy garments made of modern day fleece.
Plastic.
Walk under the archways, comment on the open café. The son does not want that one, he wants to go to the bakery shop. The bakery shop is no cheaper than the café, it just feels cheaper. We wait in the line, the son gets a coke from the freezer. His turn comes, he orders a turkish roll filled with mozarella and tomatoes. The father orders a cup of coffee and buttered pretzel.
Both sit down, at a space overlooking the wet cobbled street. Watch the two shop assistants botch the installation of a sign advertising the loaf of the week, a bakery item sold at a reduced rate, containing sunflower seeds and potato starch.
People will try anything. Perhaps the reduced price will favour custom.

Finish the coffee, finish the cola. Return the bottle, regain the deposit. Put the tray with the cups, the plates and the cutlery into the dumbwaiter standing at the door.
Walk through the damp streets of the small town.
And at home, let out the cat onto the street. The cat is nervous, and explores carefully, sniffing at every corner. Then a car passes, she rushes to the safety of her home.

ey!

tinnitus his, put more ssss to the hiss it is like a steady stream of sound from a gas cooker. Always on the right.
And they do not know what it is and they know that it will never go away. That is what they say.

And now it is eight forty eight on saturday the third of november.
two thousand and eighteen.

And the son has sat down opposite, he is combing his hair, he wants to go to the café.
The cat has already run through the house, chasing mice and bats and things.

A cup of strong coffee made with coffee of the both robusta and arabica, foamy dark brown.
And the pain in the back, the whistle in the ear, the onset of forgetfulness, what is to be done?
There is no mission today, other than to go out with the son.
To the café.
the weather is bright grey.

hey

insane

alone at the table in the sitting room in the morning
waiting for the family to get up, to awaken.
It is past nine now. the second cup of coffee taken.
this is not going anywhere.
why bother ( a question mark)
Why on earth?

The cat is on the bed in the bedroom too.

But the son and his father cleaned up the living room yesterday.
a bit.
The son does not understand why.
But he helped anyhow.

And today, a day off, no going to work for the father
and up later in the morning than is usual.
and the others just sleep on

something is wrong, a day off is frightening now
not pleasurable, as it should be.

There is personal insanity in the air again, it is becoming necessary to fix the mind to reality.
At least, to make the attempt to remain on the floor.
Perhaps it needs to be polished again.

polite

lie in bed, feel the pain in the back, the steady dull ache of a tired cartilage disc between two vertebra,   prolapsed or collapsed or whatever. Roll over onto the other side, it stops aching for a while. But then, it starts again.

Get up, go to the bathroom, the morning drama, mundane, urbane, smelly.

oh well, that's nature.

Clean the teeth, the buzz of an electric toothbrush, oscilating, scrubbing the acumulated sleep off the teeth.

and back to the bedroom, read about German greed and American trepidation in the news publications on the internet. Britannia's slow awakening  from her delusions of grandeur are a meanwhile boring episode unto themselves.

Put on the clothes, the ones from yesterday will do, the wife is still snoring, it is a holiday day, all hallows or something, the son comes in and wants to go to the café.

Why not.

Tell him that he will need to get some day clothes on to do that, and maybe to comb his sleep tangled hair.

And leave the house, into the grey day, the rain falling softly and dampening everything, it is cool and nasty.

And in the café, to be served by a girl wearing a fake tan , orange yellow, and a phony smile, polite.

The first visitor to this account this month was from Japan.

So far, the only one.

And the author still trying to learn portuguese to be able to read poems that are no longer on line.