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Thursday 28th of February

Turn on the bed, wide awake. Look at the luminous figures on the watch. It is four in the morning, far too early to get up.

And the alarm clock ends the sleep, one hour later. Deep dreamless sleep is a fiction.The hot water of the shower puts an end to sleep.

The streets cobbles are a matte darkgrey, the gaps between the stones black shadows. Farther on, in the market, the cobbles are bigger, and not so dark in

colour. Here the cracks between them have been filled with tar, to prevent the cobbles being loosened by the frost.

Stop at the bus stop, watch Dolores arrive.

She has a slow walk. Wish her a good morning. Look up at the crescent moon over the town, a waning moon with one bright light beside it. This is Jupiiter,

a reflection from an inconcievably large planet, so far away that the light from there

takes hours probably before it gets here.

Read the news on the 'phone. All about liars and cheats.

Nothing new.

cobble wobble

Wed 27th of February

Hurry through the streets, the cobbles making the feet wobble every time a step is made, a foot

forward. It is a few minutes late, according to the watch. Hurry like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Only, it is not a pocket watch. Arrive at the bus stop, Dolores and the Taxi Driver who looks like a teacher are still there. The bus has not arrived yet.

Tell out some change for the fare, and wait, wait to be last on the bus. The driver gets an exact fare, one Euro and thirty cents.

There is a young woman in the bus with striped black and white tights on. This is a departure from the prevalent fashion of black tights, black trousers. It is different. Oh- stop staring. it is rude.

At the railway station, there is the smoker. He is looking at the posters hung up over the front of the station, he does not have attention for anything else. The poster shows the timetable for future events in the town of

Landshut, all the public events for 2019.

A fresh cup of hot coffee in the station cafe starts the day.

luxury

early, and touch the button on the tablet, turn off the strumming sound of the melody, before it is louder, before it turns into a general nuisance.
Go to the bathroom, remember that today will be a late day, a day when a congress of sceintists is to get pictures taken of themselves being wise in an upmarket bavarian chain restauraunt in the centre of Munich.
Return to bed, sleep on untill the irritating sound of the sons alarm clock sounds. Hear him climb out of his bunk bed, and fumble around. The room lights of his room pour through the open door, then the sound is silenced. Hear him potter about.

And then it is time to get up, get ready, read the news. The usual time for awakening was two hours ago, time now spent resting and sleeping and dozing.

What a luxury.

It will be paid for later on, tonight. A crowd of self important men and women will describe their discoveries, the knowledge teased from Nature herself, reading the signatures of the elements.

And now the son is getting ready to go, it will be time to go and to take a shower.
Then to trouble the small car and drive the sixty kilometres to work
Then to do the days work and to prepare for the evening, an unwelcome break from the usual course of things.
The son leaves the house, to go to school
He is coughing

knees

Mon 25th of february.

A busy night of Broken sleep, the cat making a fuss at three in the morning, for some reason.

Open the door to let it out, but it does not want to.

Decide against a shower today, it is too cold. For cleanliness sake, the one taken yesterday will have to do, it will suffice. Brush the teeth, wash the face

with cold water. The time to find the clothes, the wardrobe will need to be tidied up.

The alley is dry, free of snow. Each dark grey cobblestone is picked out by the low angle of the light, all the cracks between them vanishing into deep black shadow. There are no cars about, walk on the road surface. The knees hurt, that encourages laziness, do not bother to climb onto the pedestrian pavement.

Be the first at the bus stop today, the bus is due in ten minutes, according to the electronic

noticeboard at the bus stop. Wait, watch the ducks waddling about, count the ears passing.

Then dolores arrives, with her a good morning, The Teacherman, the taxidriver arrives, good morning. The bus arrives. Pay the driver his fare, wish him a good morning. The knees hurt after the high step into the bus.

purr with her mouth full

there is a hiss in the background, what is it? a steady hiss, not stuck to one side of the head like the eternal tinnitus, no it is in the room.
And the room is hot.
There is no sleep any more.
but still tired.

Get up and turn off the heating, stop the rushing hiss from the pipes.
Go out, make a cup of coffee, escape from the heat, go to the living room, sit there.
The eyes hurt, the tiny script from the computer, those high resolution monitors. The eyes are no good for close things any more.

The son's alarm clocks sound, he leaves the things on on Sundays.

He comes out of his bedroom, looks around in a dazed and desorientated way, and lies down on the sofa, he falls straight to sleep.

Maybe a shower would help.
go to the bathroom.
Turn on the water, let the warm water from the water tank in the attic come all the way down to the bathroom.
Wash the hair, feel the old body react to the caress of the water and the soap.
Wash the feet, always difficult in the shower, a bit of a balancing act.

Then, a detergent, lime removing spray to the walls and the fixtures on the shower, wait, and then spray the walls down.
The lime is gone, mostly,
the glass is gleaming
get out of the shower and dry the body,
let the shower gleam and sparkle

go back to the bedroom, put on the day clothes, comb the unruly, towel-dried hair.
Decide to make another cup of coffee, tidy up the kitchen workspace whilst waiting for the toaster to pop. The family sleeps.
This is boring
this is Sunday

Feed the cat.
She shows every sign of happiness at this turn of events, and tries to purr with her mouth full

the first hour

today, the first hour was long ago, it was just light and the son was there, to remind of the promise to drive to the place where the old electronics are left. He wants an electronic oscilloscope, left there by a sceintist who no longer needed it.
So rise and try to shine, put on the clothes that were worn yesterday , for the main part, just let the underwear be fresh and clean.
Socks are underwear.

The son leads the way, first to the little café for a croissant and a coffee, a coke and a cake. Sit down, watch the man in the fruit shop on the other side of the street open his business. There are many people in the bakery today as well.

Leave when a family comes in. They make a mannerless show of impatiently waiting, so that they may take the window seat.
People

Then go to the place where the little black car is parked by the side of the road. The window is half frozen over, and there are no scrapers available to remove the ice. Scrub it away with the arm of the pullover, so that it is nearly all gone. Then start the engine and move off down the street, past the church of Saint Jodok, realise that there is a warning light on on the console. Stop the car, turn off the engine, then start it again. The light is now off.
Reboot everything these days, these days a refrigerator may send email.

In the long tunnel under the castle, the remainder of the ice thaws away from the windshield. But as the air gets colder again upon leaving the tunnel, the warning light comes on again. What can this mean?

The car does not like low temperatures

So stop it again.

Reboot.
The light remains off this time.
That is good.

lights

Get up, the tablet has sounded. Go over and switch it off, press the tiny button displayed on the screen. That shuts it up. The melody is called "early riser" or something. Take a shower, the fixtures will need cleaning soon.All these jobs that need to be done.

Return to the bedroom, see that the wife has gone. Curious. Perhaps she is in the kitchen.
Never mind, it is early, it is twenty past five. Find the clothing in the wardrobe, the socks and so forth.
And leave the house at twenty past five in the morning, walk up the alley, past the police station. There are a few people around there then, they are early morning police men going to work, or ending their night shift.
Find the car just where it had been left the night before. The coat and the bag put into the back, start the engine. The tiny diesel springs to life, turn the lights on, and leave the parking space behind.
Because of the dysfunctional radio in the car it is a silent drive in the rain down the motorway. Try to keep a steady speed, use the automatic systems built into the car. There is a need for great concentration, it is dark and the rain turns the road into a glistening mass of brilliant points of light. The reflections of headlamps, tail lamps, brake lights, the reflections from signposts, and marking posts at the roadside.

Driving is tiring, it needs concentration, you have to watch out for the traffic ahead and the traffic from behind.
But it is fast.

Arrive in work an hour early, there are many choices of parking places available.
The rain has passed, but the ground is still sodden wet.
The last day of the week, go back to using the train tomorrow.

smart

leave the house and walk up the alley towards the police station
it is dark and chilly, there are policemen arriving for work, on their early shift, start at six they do.
Young men with short haircuts, all smart and aggressive in their new black uniforms.
Walk down the street, the third market place in Landshut. The place reserved for Christmas markets.
There is the small black car, get in, start the engine. Listen to the diesel start to work, grumbling, noisy.
The windows are occluded, they are covered in ice and condensation..

The tiny vehicle bounces over the cobbles, then off into the tunnel.
this is all technological, the car moves.
But it is strange, it is one of the smallest cars on the road.

There is a warning light on the dashboard, and remember the instructions, it is written there that the engine should be turned off and restarted to make that light go away.
So stop the engine at the traffic lights upon leaving the tunnel.
And it refuses to start again.
Panic, just a little bit, fiddle with the controls, left the gear in maybe, maybe that will block the engine. Take the gear out, turn the lights off.
Try again.
The car starts this time.
The embarassment of being stuck in the middle of the growing early morning traffic with a car that will not move has passed.

Take the small car to work, drifting slowly down the motorways.
Perhaps using the train would be better after all.

bowed shoulders, dragging feet

Wed 20th of february, 2019

Awaken, look at the luminous hands of the watch, it is five past five.

The alarm did not sound. Go over to the small table to look, and see that the loudspeaker on the

tablet has been silenced. It is sounding alarm, but silently.

Hurry to the bathroom, urinate, wash the teeth, electric toothbrush buzz. Return to the

bedroom, there is time that needs to be made up. Let out the cat, find socks and shirt, shirt and pants.

ALL ready on time.

There is a cyclist coming up the alley, well muffled against the cold, headlamp cutting through

the dark in an electronic diode blaze. He looks up suspiciously in passing.

A shadow crosses the end of the street, just to be seen out of the corner of the eye. Upon rounding the sharp corner, see that it is a man in track suit,

a fleece, bowed shoulders, dragging feet. He is heading for the passage between the houses.

The moon is really fat today, hovering over the

old houses.
Being picturesque.

sleep stealer

Tuesday, 19th February

There is a full moon over the old town today,

-full moon in an otherwise clear sky.
There is no time to take a picture, time has flown.

Hurry down through the town, There is the older woman Dolores, sitting in the bus shelter by the river. Wish her a good morning.

Between the houses, the moon appeared large and low among the rooftops. At the open space near the river, the moon is high and distant over the trees and the church spire on the opposite bank.

A car pulls in, and waits. A man approaches opens the boot flap of the ear, puts his bags in and then opens the side rear door of the vehicle.

He gets in and the ear drives away ⇒

Meanwhile, the Teacherman has arrived, he has grown a heard. The beard is grey, it makes him look older and even more repectable.

Board the meanwhile-arrived bus. Pay the driver his fare, and go to the back of the bus. Try to read the news, but there is no

concentration. Perhaps it is on account of the full moon, the steep-stealer.

early train

Man, 18th February

On leaving the house, see that the scraper for the snow and the ice has been broken.

That will be another thing to repair.

But not at five on a monday morning.

The alley is dry and clean today, there are no other people around. Even after crossing the market street, and walking down the Theater street.

Nobody at all.

But for Dolores, in the bus stop's shelter.

She is just sitting there. Then she moves over on the long bench, as if to make space. This is unnecessary, there is plenty of space on the long bench. It is also a bit embarrassing, there is no wish to sit on the cold bench for four minutes. Hopefully she

does not take it personally.

Take the early train, the one that goes to the airport. It is more comfortable, it is a new train, the suspension is better.

By the time all the other people have boarded the train, all of the seats are occupied, but for one beside a man who is conducting a loud and stupid conversation with his friend on the other side of the carriage.

just surviving

wake early, look at the green glowing hands of the wristwatch, they are hard to focus on in the dark. It is just five in the morning.
The cat is making unhappy noises. Get it out, it wants to go to to the cat tray. Go to the bathroom, hear the creak of the cat doors open and  close.

And then go back to bed.
And fall fast asleep, there is no-, where else to go to? Nothing else worth doing.


It is light, the second awakening, the bright light from the sky glaring in through the window. A monochrome sky, will turn blue later.

Go out to the kitchen, give the coffee maker a short wipe. Turn on the machine, grind coffee, Put two slices of toast into the toaster.

Make a tiny breakfast tray, retire to the desk in the bedroom, start to write these notes.
These notes of the mornings of the last few years,
The notes that will continue until at least the end of work
a document of just surviving.

the bitter cold of the night

follow the son down the stairs, along the hall and out into the cold icy alley. The sky is clear, but it is early in the morning yet and the cold of the night has made every surface icy. Follow him, he is wearing his fern green jacket with the orange hood, he has wrapped his arms around himself. He is still eager to go to the café, this is important to him.

Cross the market street just at the freshly-cleaned monument to the fallen of the two big wars in the last century, the last wars that took place here. It is a strange thing, with helmeted figures growing out of some kind of a stump, like a tree. It is not abstract, it is strange.

The bakery is just there at the corner, a tiny corner with a table, it functions as a cafe. But first stand at the counter, exchange greetings with the proprietor, she is waiting patiently. The son places his order, he takes a coke. Order a coffee and a croissant. It is not like the croissant's in France, but that is what you get running under that name here. Move over to the second half of the cäfe, the coffee is being made freshly in the machine. A noisy process, the machine grumbles and groans.

Take the seat at the window, look out at the fruitier on the other side of the road, sorting his vegetables, emptying a bucket of water into the gutter. The window sill in the cafe has a notice on it asking to please not deposit objects upon the window sill. There is a careful decoration of pots and things there.

When the coffee is finished go around the corner to where the little black car, bought last Saturday, is parked. The insurance company has demanded to know the reading on the milometer, it wants to know how many kilometres a year that the car is driven. The car's windows are opaque with ice, but this does not matter, all that needs doing is for a picture of the milometer on the dashboard to be made using the small camera in the phone. That is enough. It saves paper.

Leave the car to it's frozen solitude at the side of the road.

Walk through the frozen town, and discover that the clothes put on in the morning in the face of the clear sky are insufficient to keep out the discomfort of the bitter cold of the night.

stream of acronyms

Friday 15th February
Board the train, from the platform see that it is well filled with passengers.They have filled every available space in the front carriages with their baggage. There are still seats free to the rear of the train.
There is a small group of americans in that part of the train, a  group of men in blue jeans and light cloth jackets. It is possible that they are soldiers. They have that neatness of attire about them, and all with fresh, short haircuts.
The ticket collector looks at the tickets.
And then the train arrives in Moosburg.
This is the last day of the week, there is so much left to do. There will be a ceremony at the university later on, all the fresh laureates are to be honoured.
Photos will be taken, long speeches held. And then, all will be forgotten untill the next such cermony in the summer.

The americans talk their shit incessantly, a constant stream of acronyms.

valentines day

Thursday, 14 February.

Up so early today that there was time to read some news on the computer.

It was a poor night's sleep.

Walking down the cobbled alley, see that there are disposable gloves lying in the gutter.

A pair of them; They are the kind that the ambulance people use to avoid infection.

Walk on, pass Grimm's kitchenware shop. There are white plates on sale at a reduced

price, like every year. They call these the white weeks.

Arrive at the bus stop ten minutes too early. Go back to the bakery shop; buy an early morning pretzel. It is still warm, carefully packed in a paper bag by the woman in charge of the shop. Take it out of the way on the way to the bus stop, say good morning to dolores, who has arrived in the meantime. Then walk over to the bin attached to the buststop's signpost, and discard the paper bag. The Taxi driver arrives, wish him a good morning too.

Count out the charge for the bus driver. Two fifty cent pieces, a twenty cent piece and a ten cent piece. That is all. And it will suffice.

good start

the sound from the tablet, the tablet is beside the bed today. Press the button on the screen, turn it off before the fourth note has sounded.
There is no need to get up at five in the morning, today is the day with the sore throat, and it is warm in bed. And the employer knows about the problems.

Darkness is so good for the eyes.

There is the sound of the coffee grinder outside, that must be the son getting up for school, making coffee in the morning.
Put on clothes in a hurry, and get up, do not want to leave him alone. The idea of it, the fifteen year old son with two lazy parents.

Go out to the kitchen, trousers and shirt, no socks on the bare feet.
Stand at the counter, look at the coffee grinder, parts scattered about.
find the lid, the grounds receptable, the coffee beans, assembly.
Then the son comes over with a full cup, offers
Say that it is his, he says it is "for you".
That is fantastic, settle down, he is making another.

Scratching the grounds out of the machine's sieve,
and filling it again.
Stay out of the way of all the activity.

In the sitting room, sit there with the cup of coffee on the table,
sip
The son comes in, finds his things for school
He searches for his compass,
the one for drawing circles in maths.
and it is hard to find.
Off to the bedroom, ask his mother
she comes out, the thing is still not to be found.
There is chaos in every corner of the room, piles of paper, things left lying about.
No idea of where things should be.

Go away, make another drink
this is silly
this mess is not asked for
everyone blames everyone else
try to blame nobody. Poor Nobody!
try to clear up piles of scattered pages and magazines into orderly heaps.
try to clear the clogged up surfaces.
the things look better now.
But the lost compass turns up in the schoolbag
where it was all along and where it should be.
It had just been forgotten

Oh help

physics book

up and awake, hear that the son is up, he is preparing his things for school.
So get up too, do not wish to let him be alone.
He is rushing about, searching for a book on physics in his chaotic room.
He asks? Where? But he has lost it himself, nobody else can help him.
It is dark outside, and being sick at home,decide to help. Clean out the coffee maker, we all drink too much of the stuff. Probably. Then go back to the bedroom, find the day clothes and put them on.
The son is still looking for his physics book, then he finds it in his school bag.

There is a rumble outside the door, it is the bin collection day today, Look out, the huge truck works it's way down the tiny alley, stopping at every second house. Two men in orange safety outfits with matching orange woolly hats are standing on pedestals at the rear end of the truck, waiting for it to stop, so that they can jump off and collect the bins from the entrances to the houses, where they have been left the previous night.
And it is only half past six in the morning.

And sick at home will not go to work untill this cold in the head has gone.

harmless cold

reading the news in the morning, the decision not to go to work confirmed by a mixture of sore throat and a headache, a runny nose and a cough. Read the news, on the computer and suddenly the eyes defocus, the legs start to go freezing cold and a feeling of faintness sets in. Strange. Go back to bed, wrap up warm before it gets worse. Cover the head with a hoodie, pull the maroon hood over the eyes to keep off the painful barbs of the glaring daylight.

This is not a great day, it is worse than yesterday. Write a short online note, an apology for the people at work. This will not work at all today, there is only a sense of dizziness.

Later, sit at the desk beside the bed, write these notes.
The son has long gone to school
the wife is up and about
just hope this pain will go away.

and to think of it, this is just a harmless cold.

weak or too thin

there is a tapping on the arm. Something is tapping on the right arm, it is not the way the cat does it, It is the son, tapping for attention. Open the eyes, see him looking on in the twilight of early morning.
He says Cafe? He is up early and wants to go to the cafe.

Assent.

Then see that he is still wearing his thin night clothes, and that he is cold.
Ask him if he wants to cuddle.

He does, and crawls in under the blanket.

He is fifteen years old, that is all right to be in bed with his father in the morning.
It is good against the cold.

Later, we leave the house together, both in day clothes. Shiver, though it is not cold. Walk slowly, to walk faster is a major effort. There is cold seeping in through the cracks in the clothing, at the neck. It is nasty. Look forward to the warmth and comfort of the cafe.
It is noisy and steamy, the voices jarring on the nerves, shattering any feeling of relaxation. The coffee tastes too weak or too thin, though it is the same as always. And the shivery cold has followed into the warm cafe, there is a headache now.
But the son enjoys his sandwich, and his coke.
So there is something good in the day.

Later in the morning, back at home, go into the bed and rest.

Awake at one in the afternoon.
This is what having caught a cold is like

gulls

Saturday, 9th February, 2014

The sound of the alarm is different today.

not like the weekly alarm. get up, turn off the insistent beep from the tablet. Go to the bathroom wash the teeth. Put on clothes. It is later today, there is an appointment in Munich at ten. There is time to make a cup

of coffee, and to put two slices of bread into the toaster. The cat is fawning for attention. It stalks about the kitchen, looking for food and attention.

And when all is eaten and the coffee drunk. take the bag and the new number plates and leave the house. It is just starting to rain, the snow is melting away. The heaps of snow left over from the street clearing activities have been reduced, they are now smaller and took bedraggled.

At the las stop, all alone today. Watch the sea gulls fight and struggle over a large piece

of bread. One of the silly birds picks the big crust up and tries to fly away. It drops it in the middle of the main road. The

approaching cars drive the gulls away, the gulls show respect for the fast metal monsters. Then another gull picks up the crust and returns it to the safety of the sidewalk.

icicle

Friday, 8th February, 2019

Leave the house, there on the right hand side is a pole leaning against the wall with a notice

on it. The notice says that there is a dangerous icicle. look up, and there is one. It is right up

there under the roof, hanging from the overflow

of the rain gutter.

The ground by the church, the tiled area on the sidewalk, is wet. It looks wet. step on it and discover that it is a sheet of ice, glistering black. Walk carefully, unsteady, and return to

the cobbles of the road. They are matt black, they are not slippery, on account of the salt spread there by the town street cleaners.

There are heaps of snow at every corner, hard crusty snow that has been piled up by the road clearing activities. They will still be there long after the snow has melted every everywhere else

-

Good morning to Dolores at the bus shelter,
She looks up, returns the greeting.

The Taxi Driver arrives and starts to tell money from

his wallet to his hand, for the bus fare. The bus is approaching, stand there breathless, and tired. Board the bus pay the driver, today is the last day of the week and the beginning of the the weekend.

kiss

Thursday, 7th of February.

The line at the cafe is in chaos, do not know where to stand-The people at the front are just standing around, the people at the far end of the cafe are all waiting to buy cigarettes.

But then all the people at the front move away, all equipped with sandwiches and drinks, and

the dark-haired woman behind the counter looks up and asks "Ja, bitte?" The order for the coffee placed, the card stamped, the money paid, stand and wait. Other people shuffle about, there in Norbert Hedgehog, smile, say good morning.

A lid for the coffee, then go out to the platform. There is a train on the tracks that is not usually there, a train that only goes part of the way to Munich according

to the destination boards. It must be a late train. Wait for the small airport train to arrive. There is a young couple with identical suitcases on wheels. They park their suitcases neatly beside each other, then he puts his arm around her shoulders, then she looks m at him, closes her eyes and they kiss. They are happy

to be travelling together, their suit cases both have identical orange flight tags on them.

That picture is gone now, the train is in, let the people out, board, let the day begin.

Small coins

Wednesday 6th of February.

The alarm was early today, it had been set carelessly last night.

But it makes little difference. By the time all has been done and dealt with, it is five thirty three

again, and out in the alley there are yellow plastic bags full of plastic waste, waiting to be

collected. There is snow in the street, and because it is cold, the snow is hard and crunchy.

The town has been cleared of snow by the municipal workers, there are heaps of snow at

all of the corners where they have piled it up. They are very thorough, there is not much snow there this year.

At the bus stop, there is Dolores, she does not look sad any more now. Wish her a good morning. Just as the noticeboard on the pole shows that the arrival of the bus is imminent, the taxi driver arrives. He says good morning to Dolores too. When they have

both got on board take out out all the small coins and pay the driver. The days journey has started. Three stops later, the taxi driver gets off the bus, four stops later dolores leaves the bus. The destination, the railway station is the next stop. Get out of the bus, look forward to hot coffee.

later, as planned

the day starts a little later today, be up at six, an hour later than usual. A comfort, a pleasure, a change that is enjoyable. There is a visit to the car registry office planned for this morning. So take it easy, spend some of the overtime made in the past few weeks in relaxation. Take a shower, and then realise that this has interfered with the son's schedule for the day. He is waiting outside the door, waiting to use the bathroom, it is urgent.

Dress in the bedroom, fresh shirt, pants and socks, all the rest remains the same. Then read the news, and then the son comes in with a cup of coffee that he has made without being asked for it.
That is nice.
He packages up his school things then, and leaves for school.
He is early, he is always early.
and finish writing and prepare to leave for the registration office.

Tuesday 5th February 2019

The car is coated in icy snow, coarse crystals

of whitened water. Try to scrape the stuff away

but the device for scraping does not work and

it breaks. Lock up the vehicle and leave it at

the side of the road. There is too much ice

everywhere, it is painful on the bare hands, the hoary snow has already scratched the fingers, they are bleeding.

Return home, tell the wife about all of these problems, she then she goes back to sleep.

Leave the house, and go to the tax office office on foot.

It is outside the town, in an area zoned for industrial purposes. Get on the way there, a long walk by the river, the icy trees white against the freezing grey sky. It is very pretty, all the

fields by the river white, and the people out walk­ing-their dogs. They is always a single figure

sometimes with only one dog, sometimes with several. It would make a pretty painting,

Breughel without the ice. Just frozen snow.

The industrial area is a car friendly zone, pedestrians have to walk through mounds of

snow on the footpath. Both feet are now cold, this is nasty.

And at the tax office, pull a number out of the machine and wait. Wait, and think of the walk to the station.
Look forward to the walk along the river to the station.

Steel

Monday, 4th February 2019

There is snow everywhere today, heavy

wistallme sort of snow. It is about twenty

centimetres deep on the car roofs, because of the

attentions of the municipal tax employees it has

turned to salty mush on the street's centre.

And due to the men in orange who clean the streets

there are tiny piles of snow here and there, they

have been pushed there by the snow ploughs.

There is traffic in the

no old town, but for two

cyclists, well wrapped against the cold, driving

carefully through tk snow.

The bus arrives punctually, like almost every

morning. The driver comments that there are arty

fares for short distances. Agree. Shrug.

The cafe is full tetay, tk waiting room is

vaehed. The fidgety man, the morose man,

they are all there today.

Take the coffee to the snow encrusted

platform and wait. Think about the man

at the entrance to the railway station, using

a steel scraper to remove the crust of

trodden snow foomtte steps. He is an old

man, Hat is a lousy pot. He does it well,

but it is a hard life.

salt

The cat on the lap and snow falling outside, turning the roofs and the roads white and soft looking. The snow had been predicted, and it started punctually this morning. First the road was hardly covered at all, the snow seeming to melt faster than it was falling.
And then everything was covered, ankle deep. The few cars on the road leave deep tracks in the pure white snow. And more and more of the stuff falls, the flakes varying in size, at the beginning they fell fast and straight to the ground, now they float down, slowly, and then the sky is filled with a flurry of much smaller flakes that seem to move very quickly.
A matter of density, water content and wind.

The cat gets off the lap, leaving a scattering of cat hairs on the knees.

Make the usual warm drink, it is Sunday, it is time for rest.
And the snow silence outside is great, there is no sound of engines or footfalls.

It is Sunday, there will be fewer snow ploughs, fewer men in orange coats.
And that written, a municipal truck passes outside, spreading salt.

gratitude

sit in the corner of the dark bedroom waiting for the time to pass, get up to go to the kitchen, make a cup of coffee, using the little machine which only finds use on weekends and holidays.
Look across the living room, see that the neighbours are up and about, they are awake early, perhaps they have a project today.
Then notice that the son is sleeping on the couch, he must have got up earlier and then felt tired.
Teenagers. He will be fifteen this year, there will be more difficulties coming, so people say.

Take the coffee back to the corner of the bedroom, that is where the desk is, the computer for news of the world. British politics is drifting to a situation that is being guided by incoherent dreams, dreams fed by the past, by the failure to realise that past glory is done with. And american politics, it is unclear what they want too. Follow the news every day, and get no wiser.

It is raining outside, as the forecast had said, drips from the roof, and there are gurgles from the drains.
It is the weekend.
Let the cat in, she makes a short sound. It is like a thank you.

But she is a cat. She may mean something entirely different.
She may have no concept of "thank you"
No idea of gratitude.

Maybe only humans expect that.

It is now time to get washed, dressed, enjoy another cup of coffee and to go about the days business.

Dazzling diode

Friday, February 1st

The cat rubs its head on the right trouser leg, put put on, the pair of trousers resting there where

they had been placed the night before and then removed, then pulled over cold legs fresh from

the shower, then the cat.

Bend down and rub the small animal's head. She likes that. The cat closes her eyes and

purrs.

Then finish putting the clothes on

-

Turn off the small light in the bedroom, go into the hallway, take the money out of the small

wall cabinet. The money is in it's wallet, along with all the plastic cards.

The alley is dry, it is not really cold anymore.

Walk through the town, like almost every other day. A cyclist rounds a corner in a hurry,

sudden, silent and unexpected. The headlight is a dazzling diode, a bright white light.

That is the only person, untill the mornings good morning to Dolores in the bus shelter.

She is wearing her fur coat, her trousers are short, they do not cover her ankles. Her face is tired, her age not to be judged exactly.

On some days she wears a Muslim head scarf, on others not.

Wish her a good morning, let the day at the end

of the week begin.