clocks

Mewing from the cat in front of the bedroom door, she is inside and wants to leave, to go into the corridor. Her mews take on a howling, complaining character. Get up, let her out, go to the lavatory. It is half past six.

Go into the kitchen, switch on the coffee maker, the coffee grinder, take two slices of toast and put them into the toaster.

Make a cup of coffee, butter the toast and put a piece of Brie-type cheese on it. Put it all onto a plate and go into the living room.

Write these notes directly into the computer, starting with the cat.

The clock is loud, every thirty seconds , a switching noise as it sends a signal to the non-existent filial clocks.

dak thack and then thac dak.

An old business clock, that used to synchronise all of the other clocks in some building, some enterprise, in the 1940's in France.

The clocks outside, the ones on the churches, ar all sounding now, seven bells for the seventh hour. They are calling the faithful to prayer.

And now the son is up, he scampers around the kitchen. A scampering fifteen year old.

Sunday, a day of rest.