make extra space

At midnight the chest pains, the pain in the diaphragm, every cough every deep breath sore and short. And at nine in the morning, all gone. Should there be thanks to Saint Sylvester, it is his day today, Saint Sylvester a sanctified pope who died sixteen hundred years ago. In the hope of health look out at the blue light from the cloudless sky reflected in the window panes of the enclosed balcony. Taking the short walk to the bathroom force a few coughs, by way of trial. They hurt a little, but not as bad or as terrifying as yesterday.

Looking up from the chair on which she has been sleeping, the cat holds her head out in expectation of a head rub, upon receipt of which she closes her eyes. Maybe she smiles behind her fur.

Take fright at the shocking sight of the shaggy unshaven face in the mirror attached to the wall there, run the water tap hot and reach for the shaving cream, wash the face, cream on the stubble and take that scratchy razor  and  apply it to the white foam until it and all those offending hairs beneath have gone. The grey skin of the face does not look good at all, but it is better without the stubble.

Worth taking the trouble to using that ancient razor once again.

In the kitchen, start to clear the mess, open the dishwasher, remove the washed items, take them to the corridor and place them into the shelving in the cupboard there. Then the used water bottles from the living room, then the cups and saucers still lying about since yesterday afternoon to the kitchen, to the case for the water bottles. Fill the the dishwasher with the pots and pans and plates, not forgetting the cutlery. Wipe the table top, it needs it  now that it has regained visibility. Cleaning the ordure left from yesterday, needs to be done. Sort the plates and cups in the cupboard, there now seems to be extra space there.

practice

Midday, a feline face looks around the corner of the door from the kitchen. The cat just looks, blinks, keeps on looking.
Look  back, no difference, the cat looks.
She is watching, perhaps understanding that something has changed, there is somebody in the bed at a time when this person is never there.
She keeps on looking, motionless.
Then, having assessed the situation sufficiently, she turns away.
And goes.

The son comes in with a cup of coffee, he is concerned that his father is ill.
The hiss in the head is stronger, and breathing is sore, the throat is rough.
Stay in bed
Enjoy the warmth and the comfort,
be thankful that the wife and the son are there to care for things.
It is hard to tell what is wrong, maybe it would be right to go to the doctor next year. That is not far away.

There are other things that would be nicer to do than lying in bed listening to the son practice his piano.

shake

this morning is no good, the chest is sore, a deep breath causes a cough, occasional sneezes are a shock to the system, removing sight for a second.
Go to the bathroom, start to freeze and to feel cold. Finish there, and go back to the bedroom. The soles of the feet have taken the cold from the tiles, and they seem to keep it. Sit down at the desk to read the news, and in the middle of the latest news of things in the world, a sudden shivering runs through the body, the tinnitus is a loud whistle now, the feet are colder.

Back to bed, huddle under both blankets and shiver, the feet will not warm, the chest hurts, a sneeze errupts, curl up small and shiver.

It would have been sensible to wear a hat in the rain yesterday, and not to let the head get wet.

And now to remain in bed, look at the small statue of a knight on the console by the bed.

On the way back from the café this morning drop into the watchmakers shop. The watch has held well for two years now, but it's strap has not. It is wearing out, the pale leather lining has broken in various places.
The greeting, "hello, is there a problem with the watch?".
Customers are not forgotten here.
There is no problem with the watch.
But there is a problem with the strap, and the wife refers to her husband, who looks into the rack behind him and takes out a strap. Then he rejects it, it has decorative white stitching on it.
Then he suggests one from another manufacturer, one of the same size and the same quality.
That is good.
Then start to talk about clocks and mechaisms and electric clocks and whether or not they need to be oiled. That is a complicated story, a tale of pendulums and frequency and power transmission .
What have you, the son is politely silent.

With the watch freshly cleaned on the outside, and a new strap attached, leave the little watchmakers shop and go home.

Later in the day take a picture of the shop down the alley, a picture with the owner. It is a second hand clothes shop.

Café and then market

Inside the bakery store, there are people already being served, it will be neccessary to wait. The son is already inspecting the wares, the cakes and so forth.
Outside the shop a tiny elderly woman is pushing her wheeled walking aid ahead of her. She is wearing a black beret and is very nicely dressed. Upon seeing that she is heading for the bakery, hold the door open for her.
She wheels in, says thank you, let her go ahead and make her orders. See that every movement is difficult, consider how long it must have taken for her to get dressed, and to head out into the street on this horrible rainy day at the end of the year.
She makes her order, takes care to count out the change correctly.
Today, there are younger assistants behind the counter, one comes out to take the order.
A buttered pretzel and a cup of coffee please.
A Bienenstich cake and a cup of Café au Lait.
Five Euros sixty please.

Sit down in the window space.
Talk to the son.
He loves these short sojourns in the café with his father,


And then leave the café behind, go down to the market, it is market Friday today.
The market is a disaster for the sellers, there is nobody there, there customers are all away on holidays.

Take some pictures, practice with the new camera.

A market stand alone and deserted.

The market itself, overlooked by the fog bound castle on the hill.

pictures on boxing day

There are sounds of music from the church, they have a visiting choir.
It is boxing day.
Walk through the damp streets with the small camera, recently bought, then sent for repairs, now is the time to practice. New equipment needs practice, small knobs in different places.
Cross the river using the pedestrian bridge, the wire railings of which are filled with padlocks, some expressing undying love, others just hanging there. Every few years the town council workers remove them, but they come back.

In the park in front of a villa there is a rusty metal sculpture.
Take a picture .
Why not.
The big church in the background.
Boring.
Take another of a couple walking their dog, taking it to the centre of the lawn, throw a stick, let the dog fetch, then kiss each other.
Miss the instant, the picture is not good enough.
A picture of a window dummy, a man walks past.
A picture of people at a christmas tree, the tree decorated with golden balls.

Go home again, this was enough practice for the day.

^

stopped raining

Early riser on Christmas day, the best intentions for making it pleasant, having a walk around the town whilst everybody is sleeping.
It is raining, rain on Christmas day.

Christmas is important, even to those who say it is not.

The rain drops are falling steadily, the cobbled alley outside the window glistening wet stones, the portuguese wine baar on the other side of the road is silent and shut.

What do you expect at eight in the morning?

Bells are ringing, twice. It is half past eight. Sleepy still, but what would be the point of continueing to lie in bed and to look at the dim cieling, or to close the eyes to the increasing daylight crawling around the eyelids, shining red through the translucent skin.

Therefore sit in the living room, listen to the two clocks there tic and toc to each other, almost syncronous but probably not quite. The tin christmas tree decorated by the son last night,  a small bush. Why should such a huge Christmas tree stand there decorating the corner of the room, just for Christmas week. But it was important for the young son, He likes the family.


Alone in the sitting room, now resolve to pick up the camera and to go for a walk.
It has, after all, stopped raining.

harmony

Today is Christmas eve, the 24th of December in the year two thousand and nineteen, just count the days now until the years end.
The cat is on the window sill, she is purring and looking out at the grey eight o'clock morning, the sound of single cars rumbling on the cobbles outside, doors slam, silence.

The cat jumps down from the window sill and walks acrosss the big living room to the kitchen, she is to be heard there now, purring loudly, inspecting the plate where she imagines her food should have been freshly placed today. Hear her wander around, jump up onto the workbench that the wife placed into the kitchen, then jump down again wander around. If purring is a sign of happiness, then that is a happy cat. She returns to the living room, and jumps onto the table, there is the man, early risen, writing on the computer. How does a cat assess a person sitting still at a table, looking at a glowing surface and stroking the keys in front of the screen. Perhaps it is all just boring, she jumps down from the table and up onto the window ledge again.

Clocks ticking, remember that there are clocks to be repaired yet.
The family is asleep, but for the father, thinking of the sadness that is christmas, an estranged family, a group held together more because of necessity than desire.
The mess in the kitchen needs to be tidied and cleaned, the son baked cookies yesterday.
For Christmas.
He is a fifteen year old teenager, Christmas and harmony are important to him. He still needs and wants protection.

For a few years more he deserves it.
Harm and harmony, is there a relation, what will the arguments and dissatisfaction look like this evening?

hairy islands

feel quite good after waking up, feel that a shave and a shower would do good, would be nice. The family, the wife the son and the cat are all asleep, go into the bathroom and let the water from the tap flow untill it is hot. Go to the toilet and let the water flow untill it  stops. That is a relief. Turn off the hot tap now, let the sink drain, fill it with some hot water again. Wash the face, apply the shaving foam and run the scratchy razor over the face, untill the resistance from the three day old stubble has gone. Go over the face once more, make sure that there are no hairy islands left there.
And then, a warm shower, it all feels good, remember a long gone encounter in a shower, so long past.

And then dry and return to the bedroom, pick up the clothing from yesterday, all but fresh pants and socks for the day.

The wife and the son are still asleep, but now the cat is up and about. Sit at the small writing desk and read the news on the computer, about the politics that has been turned into a liars trade.

The cat on the floor, reaches up with her front paws, grips the corduroy trousers and jumps up onto the knees. Scratch her head, massage the fur on her back.

She purrs, she seems a happy cat

full now

The Sunday before Christmas, and why leave the house at all with the rain coming down outside from that grey sky. Try to make sense of politics and check on the things that need to be done.

There is so much small detail in the day and so much to be done. Things that were put aside to be done quickly sometime end up taking hours and hours  to do.

Trying to understand the gadget on the dishwasher, the thing to allow the basket to glide into the machine, either at a high level or at a lower level. It glides in to the stainless steel cave alright, then there is a crash and it drops down to it's lower level, but on one side only.

Inspect the catches, they seem to be in order. Then see that one of the carrier arms for the metal basket is retracted to far. Pull it out a bit, then clean it a bit, there is something caugt in there,

Nasty and slimy.

Then push the basket in again, optimistic that it will work now.

It does not, the stupid thing falls again.

Pull it out again, raise it, make sure that the catch has snapped into place. Push it in carefully now.

It goes in and stays up. Test the rotor, make sure that it is rotating freely.

Go into the sons room, ask him if he happens to have any crockery, the machine is not quite full, and it seems a shame to waste part of a washing cycle. 

The son climbs up to his bed, his reclusive space. He hands down a yellow big cup.

He hands down an orange big cup.

Then a yellow small mug.

Then four cups of French china, made by Yves Deshoullieres.

Then a plate.

Then another plate.

Bring the things into the kitchen, all the hands are full.

Then two empty water bottles and a breadboard.

The dishwasher is full now.

It is still raining outside.

pretzel

In one hand the three shirts on their hangers in a plastic bag. The plastic bag protect the shirts from the rain. In the other there is the heavy cloth bag, containing the cheese and the apples bought in the discount supermarket, a shop that keeps up a remarkable quality, despite it's low prices.

Now enter the store for all the soaps and perfumes and household chemicals. It used to be the chemist, but now the scope of the things on sale has been widened so far that this alone will no longer suffiice to name the shop.

The cloth bag hurts the hand, it is heavy and the carrying straps are thin. The shirts have to be held at chest level, so that they do not trail on the ground. It is awkward, there are crowds of people doing Christmas shopping, there are few people serving, today is Saturday too. Searching for a nail brush, take the escalator down to the basement. Search there and find nothing, so ask one of the rare members of the staff where such things are to be bought.
They are upstairs, on the ground floor,

Take the escalator back up again.

The son is suffering, he has not had his breakfast yet. The hand is sore, the other customers are jostling, everyone is in a hurry. There is toothpaste. Have a tube of that.
And search for the nail brushes everywhere. Ask an other member of the staff, she says that they are just over there in the next aisle.

There is a display. Nail brushes with horsehair and sandalwood. The sort of thing that you would buy somebody for Christmas, perhaps. Search on, go around a corner.
There they are, five vareieties, plastic, wooden, high and low priced.
Two low-priced wooden ones and a nail file, that is all.
The son is most upset now, all this walking around in the jostling crowd on his empty stomach has upset him. Queue at the counter, pay for the brushes, the toothpaste and the nail file.
Then go out. The son is in a foul humour now.
Look over , there is a small bakery with a few chairs , they serve coffee as well. The woman who works there is busy wiping down the tables. Ask the son if he thinks that they are closed. He says that he does not know.

So go in and ask. The woman says that they are of course, open. And she is friendly, takes her time for her customers. Have a cup of coffee and a buttered pretzel. The son, after long and careful deliberation has a small pastry with red fruit and poppy seeds , and a milk coffee.
Sitting at the tiny table, watch as his humour improves. He is hungry, tell him to order something else. So he has a buttered pretzel as well.
Now,  things are better. The woman serving in the café is friendly, and the only other customer is having a loud conversation on her cell phone with somebody. It is funny to listen to her one half of the conversation.
Wish the woman behind the counter a happy Christmas, pay and leave

deserted

The day started on the empty Autobahn after the second cup of coffee this morning, after the cat had been feed and all. So soon before Christmas, the people seem all to have taken an extra day off. Such a relaxing drive listening to early music on the radio.
The pebble parking space is empty of cars, the only ones there have been there all night, judging by the pseudo floral frozen patterns on their windows. There is not a soul to be seen.
Enter the two storey building, and pass the steadily swaying pendulum.
The office, there is a message in the mail.
The little widget that is to be repaired can be done after all.
Now.
Or else next year.
Rush, gather the parts needed for the small construction.
Rush to the electronics department.
See the technician just vanish into the distance, around the corner, ages away at the other end of the building.
He is having a break for a cigarette in the courtyard.

Talk to him there.

He comments that there is nobody there today at all.

It is cool outside, much to warm for the time of year, everyone says that.
Is it the climat changing or just a freaky winter?

Or both together.









The widget is finished, it is tested, it is ready to work with.
Walk down the empty corridor.
There is a man standing there waiting outside the office door.
Oh.
The man to collect the poster.
Oh dear.
Apologise for keeping him waiting.
Unlock with the grey button on the black disc.
Open the dark brown wooden door.

Enter, the customer comes in.
Do the paperwork, let him sign.
Give him his poster, let him check it first.
Wish him a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.




Later, eleven, the cafe, there are two people there, the proprietor and a customer.
Kind of quiet, one might say.

Order one coffee, medium.
And one panino, after an argument that they look different today, and also that it is so exactly the same as the one that was there yesterday.
It is the one that was there yesterday.
They keep for two days.

It tastes fine.

nuttin

This day is clear and sunny, there is nothing to want or to desire except for some piece  of quiet, the end of the all day hiss in the head would be splendid indeed.

The man opposite in the café talks constantly about art, art rhymes with so much and only one thing comes to mind.  But there are others.

The coffee is black and simple, fine and tasty. Listen.

Try to explain the technical aspects of colour, to be told that they do not matter.

Finish the coffee and go back to work.

In the basement today.

Art for arts sake, but then it is all about the money today.

Let the day be beautiful, it is far too warm for this time of year.

And there will be no detailed account today, that is all there is to say.

Would that have been worth it?

Wendnesday 18th December
Take the turn onto the Autobahn, the long curved ramp down to the string  of lights, each attached to a vehicle speeding towards Munich. The tiny car has lousy acceleeation, use the complete acceleration strip veside the carriageway. The car reaches a speed of one hundred kilometres an hour, veer to the left and proceed. Turn on the cruise control, far ahead there is  a large truck. Watch as the distance slowly decreases, the intervening cars overtaking the truck one by one.
And then, the truck is only a short way away. It is a truck with Italian plates and the back of the container has cursive Italian lettering on it, something in Italian.
Slow the car, just a bit. This Italian truck driver is driving fast. Drive closely, use the wind shodow. The driver is driving at a steady ninety five, fifteen kilometres an hour more than is allowed.
Stay behind this truck, all the way to the turnoff mrked "Freising Sud". That is fifteen minutes later. Had the car and the traffic allowed, and the travel were twice as fast, then seven and a half minutes would have been saved.

Would that have been worth it?

taken for granted up to now

It is dark, it is only seven in the morning. Press the button on the key and the car lights up. The small black Smart car. There is wet condensation all over it, giving it a pearly matt look.

Get in, turn on the radio, the weather report is just on. This is winter in southern Germany, and the temperatures are warm. Seventeen degrees Centigrade are predicted during the day, five degrees now. It is like a late summer, it is all wrong. The announcer on the radio expresses her astonishment, she says that is much too warm.
Normally there is deep frost at night during these months. Instead, it will be a warm spring day.

Later on, leave the Autobahn, use the curved ramp, and from the height of the bridge look out over the countryseide, there are the spires and towers of Munich, there is the weather forecast tower associated with the research atomic reactor, all lit in blue.

There are the  alps, looming over the scene in the distance, under an orange and yellow and red dawn sky. A spectacular view today, with the clear air and the warm wind coming in from the south.

The drama is threatening, hear that John Williams music for Star Wars has similar structures to Wagner operas.
The sky is spectacular, but something is wrong, it is actually threatening a major change in the weather that has been taken for granted up to now.

trailer

Monday, 16th of t center-ok,
. go down the stairs in the old house, see that the dirt there has not been cleaned away yet.
Oh well so what.

go around the end of the stairs, there is the sons tiny east german car. It now has small heaps of rust underneath it.
There is a lot of work to be done.
Beside the car, there is the trailer, now fixed.
It needs to be taken for its safety inspection.
It is a small trailer, easy to wheel to the end of the house corridor by hand.
Then open the big double door, wheel the trailer onto the pedestrian's path, being
careful not to touch the black car parked there at the side of the road. Even people
parking illegally are fussy about scratches to the paint work of their vehicles. Let the little trailer roll off the sidewalk, it bounces off the cobbled street.
Leave it there, and go back up to the flat. Close the big door on the way. Put on the jacket, pick up the bag, check that the
paperwork is there. Then go back down, and walk down the alley to where the car is parked.
Shortly after leaving the parking spot the newer steering fails. Now the steering is endlessly heavy, the car becomes difficult to manoeuvre. This is a thing that will need to be fixed. Stop
the engine, restart. All the dashboard lights go on. The steering works again.
Now the windscreen has fogged, turn the heater on to clear this problem. And to clear the rear window too. Drive hr
car on down to the church, There is an open wide space there, do a U-turn and return to the trailer. Park, then go to the back of the car, open the boot, and take out the tow hook. Install this
on the car, Then attach The trailer, Then attach the cable for the illumination of
the trailer. All done.
Drive the short distance to the vehicle safety place. They have not started work yet.
So wait.
So what.
-
Twenty minutes later, return home.
All done, the engineers just took a
quick look, saw that the faults had been removed, placed their seal on the
number plate, and that was that.

dribble

exhausted after yesterday wake in the morning feel ice cold and sleep through the night almost awaktioen at seven and again at eight and this drivel does not make sense

awake and make a cup of coffee, the son is up and about making his sunday ritual breakfast the wife is not having any she wants to stay in bed.

at breakfast the son can talk about nothing but his trabant, his little car, his object for restauration.
Think about how the weekend has dribbled away.

But there is pleasure there at this new project.

After breakfast collapse on the sofa sleep for four hours more.
Age is taking it's toll, this is a mad race now trying to get things done.
But sleep untill the son comes in looking for his socks.
They are under the sofa.
How?

trabant

Take the larger car today, the car that the wife normally uses. Remember to press the clutch, there is no automatic system on this machine.
But it has a towhook. The son is in the passenger seat, he is excited. This journey is being made to collect his car, his sixty year old vehicle of east German manufacture. At the trailer depot in landshut speak to the woman in charge of the shop, she prepares the papers, sign on the dotted line.
Then follow her to the place where the trailers are stored, it is only a short way away. There are trailers there of all sorts and sizes. The car trailers are flat, and they have a tipping mechanism that needs to be explained first, they have little extendable ramps on the back as well, they need to be explained too.
When all has been said and done take the car and it's new follower out, and drive out to the country to collect the son's Trabant car. His excitement is great, he is fifteen years old and found the old car in the internet. It was looked at the previous week, now it is going to be collected.

snow

Friday, the tenth of December, 2019

It is silent in the house this morning.

The son's

alarms do not sound any more, he has gone to

the youth hostel for the all night choir practice,

preparation for the school choir's christmas concert.

It is silent, get up, get dressed. Sit down to look

at the news.-that all of the politicians are playing their power games all in their own

name and not in that of their voters

-The

British have lived up to their prejudice, they have put their nationalism before common sense,

The cat has her

hind feet on the ground,

and her front paws on The corduroy knee.

She looks up, makes a croaking noise,

and then leaps up onto the knees, turns twice and settles down. Run the left hand over her head, listen to her now-mommenced purring. She is content, the human legs are warmm the human's hands smooth her fur. Her eyes close, she makes a high-pitched purring noise as she purrs out her satisfaction. Stay for a while, take time, then it is time to make the first café da manha, to start the day.
Carefully pick the cat up from the knees and put her onto the bed.

And out in the kitchen use the meanwhile heated coffee machine to make a big cup of coffee, a full cup of brown brew.

The cup is by Apilcao, a french firm.

And much later, in the cafe at work

during the midday break from work,

watch the snow fall, tentatively at first,

and then everything is covered in white

mush.

It is ten days to Christmas, ✓ always

snows around two weeks before Christmas

and then it all clears up again for

Christmas day.

first name people

barely awake sitting at the side of the  bed, stretch the arms flex the shoulders, is the back hurting?
barely awake, though it is later than usual, still the night was bad, stomach pains, rest awake, no welcome blackness of sleep.

The son comes in, raises his eyebrows? cup of coffee?
yes please.
In German.
Ja bitte.
Go to the bathroom.
Return.
Find the fresh underwear in its place in the wardrobe.
Get dressed.

The son comes in with the promised cup, puts it on the saucers.
Donkey.
That is thank you in German.
The wife is asleep.
Read the news offered by the computer.
Ursula is issueing catchy phrases.
Boris is in the shits.
Angela is compromising.
Horst is doing what Horst does,
Markus is trying hard to qualify for chancellor,
and Donald and Nancy, Adam and Jerry and Mitch, a fine kindergarten.

Three cups and a slicec of toast later it is time to go, out into the drizzle and the long drive to Garching.

Resolve to continue learning Portuguese today, an hour at vocabulary.
Practice with real people, that would be nice.

very kind of him, really

the unwelcome sound of strumming from the tablet on the table in the corner of the pitch black room puts an end to sleep and dreams until it has been dealt with by tapping on the screen over the depiction of a button.
Then there is the need for the bathroom, the bathroom is cold now because winter has come and made itself at home here in the east of southern Germany. There is just the chill working it's way through the thick brick walls of the old house.

Return to the bedroom, it is the day of the dentist appointment, later, half past eight. It is only half past five now, so

Back to bed, and warm up.

Only a short strange dream later

Get up, and decide to take a shower, clean away the cloud of sleep and dreams that may have been caught on the skin and in the hair of the head. Shave before showering, the razor is scratchy it will need to be replaced.
And after the warm shower, drying the skin with an old towel, hear a knock on the bathroom door. It is the son, he is up, and he has an urgent desire to use the bathroom.
Walk through the corridor dressed in nothing but the wetness on the skin and the towel, finish drying in the bedroom.
Select the clothes for the day from the wardrobe, comb the hair, make a cup of coffee.
There is still an hour's time, the dentist does not have her practice far away.
It is only a check up, a prophylactic business, but there you are.

The son has readied himself for school.
He has made a second cup of coffee for his father.
very kind of him, really

pebble parking lot

Tuesday, 19th of December, 2019

Leave the car under the tree onthe pebble

parking lot. Enter the budding, check in, sce that

there are still thirty two hours of overtime left.

By this evening, it will be forty, or more. Climb the stairs around the stairwell, there

is the pendulum swaying, letting the earth

change its direction, the pendulum sways

on, keeping its momentum, assisted by

two electromagnets.

In the office, unpack the new bearings,

and hang up the jacket.. Use the electric razor

stored in the cupboard here to get rid of the

worst of the facial hair. Electric razors are

not so thorough, but they are convenient.

Bring the bearings down to the machine

shop in the basement. With just a few

movements, the work is done, the hearings

are fitted. All is done.

Say thank you,

And then-carry on with work that accumulated.

yesterday evening and in the night. The

students had left it to the last moment, and

had had to work at night.

pop

walk into the mechanical workshop, a room of machines. Lathes and milling machines, filing benches and vices, look into the side room, here is the smith, everything in close order.hammers, presses and welding machines.
Over the weekend the father and son team had attempted to remove a ball bearing ring from a stub achsle belonging to the trailer for the family car.
The bearings were stuck, so use a press, a pulling claw to remove them.
To try and remove them.
The wheel is now bent, the bearing is still insider, a disaster.

Ask the man operating the milling machine if there is anything to be done with this bent piece of metal with the bearing still stuck in it. The comment " done with no feeling for anything whatsoever, how did you expect that to work?"
And laughter, pleasure at the signs of incompetence so apparent to the qualified eye.

The workshops master enters, takes one look, and says, "bad". But still, it could be worse.
He walks over to yet another workshop, the place were the trainees are.
He borrows a tool.
He scrapes away the surplus metal.
Puts the whole thing in a press.
pulls a lever.
PoP.
Out comes the bearing.
And he says that later on, he will straighten out the other bent bits.

It is good to have a friendly master mechanic about to fix the mess made by amateurs.

Nothing is as easy as it seems.

dumpling

too lazy today to go out or to do anything it is sunday and that is that get up and start to work at tidying things then go to bed again it is all a waste of something the son comes in and asks whether he should m cake sunday breakfast say ok that is in order.

the son returns after warming up the little sweet dumplings and making a big pot of coffee.

he returns to the bedroom and says all is ready.

Get up

He asks the wife whether she wants breakfast.
she says she wants to go on sleeping.

The son is sad now, that is a family event for him, he feels that he will slow or stop the desintegration of things
at least on Sundays.

Resolve to do a bit of cleaning the house today
it does not really matter
what on earth does.

Breakfast with the son was nice today.
leave a few dumplings for the wife, she will be up later.

socialist industrial capabilities

7 th of December two thousand and nineteen

The depression that started yesterday is gaining

ground Today, a feeling of slowness, of carelessness,

of all the inevitability that we are confronted

with daily.

The dark is failing into a grey morning,

water outside the window, the cat complaining

outside the bedroom door.

Oh, so what, let the cat in, go out to the

bathroom, take a piss, brush the stale taste

of the night of the surface of the teeth.

Today is the day were during which the

son can look at an old car, a car

fifty years old

, he wants to restore it. He

has learn all of the parts of this car on the

internet.

He awakens, he is eruows, he fears that

he is

late. He rushes around to find the adoess,

his shoes, his hairbrush.

Hate another cup of coffee, and think about

it. A long drive Through the bavarian country su

might not be a bad thing

. A long drive in

a small black ear to look at a relic of

East german socialist industrial capabilities.

nic

Sixth of Dudmoer 2019

The son comes into the bedroom, his father

is sitting at a desk, reading the news on the

computer. The son has a piece of paper in

his hands, blue ink writing and red teacher's marks. It is his ex temporal examination,

the teacher wants it to be signed by his

parents. He has recieved a grade two

mark, grade one would be better.

Sign the page at the top right and wish

the son a happy saint Nicholas day.

Let the cat in. It is cold

outside in the hallway.

Drive to work, in the nasty cold

dark, even the trucks want to go

faster today.

Much later, the man in the cafe,

gives a chocolate Nicolaus with

the coffee and the panino.

To celebrate the day.

Black clothing weather

The son's alarm clock sounds, the alarm clock in the tablet never sounded.
The son comes into the bedroom and says that it is half past seven, he is surprised to see his father still in bed.
The alarm clock failed.
wake up, sit up, stand up.
Go to the wardrobe, search for a shirt.
Put on an undershirt.
Put on the found shirt.
Finish putting on underwear with the socks.
Black socks.

And then black trousers.
And black shoes.

The son comes in with a cup of coffee.
Thank you.

Sit down at the desk.
Look at the tablet.
There is a picture of a red based battery.
The cable for recharging was not connected.
That is why the alarm did not work.

Go to the kitchen, make another cup of coffee.
Drink that, take the pills, for the piss, for the heart.
And leave the house in the dawning day, later than usual.
There are young people everywhere, heading for school, walking through the streets, the alleys, all in black winter clothes.

It is almost sinister.
Pass the cafe, go down the small alley, and pass the Christmas market.

Free the car's windscreen of the coating of frost, and drive.

Late to work, but what matter, there is so much overtime on the clock.

condensation

A longer walk  than usual in the dark, pass the bakery, the little café. It's windows are all steamed up, there has been a delivery of fresh bread, and  the hot air from the container has deposited it's condensation on the cold windows. Still, it is possible to see the proprietor bustling around tidying up the wares ready for sale.
At the traffic lights turn right and walk on past the shop specialising in working clothes and the ironmongers, the toolshop, the shoe shop and another corner cafe.
The next junction offers a path leading to the back of the church , pass the old persons home, here there is only one window lit and go carefully through the park, making sure to avoid any heaps left by dogs. These are not good to step into, the smell would not go away for a long time. On the right there is now the son's school, he is so lucky that he does not have a long journey. It is a five minute walk.
And there, down a side street is the small black car. It is filthy, with all the dirt from the road.
Let the lights flash by pressing the button on the key.
Take out the scraper, remove the frost from the windows, get in, start the engine. This unusual parking space was used last night because of the visitors to the Christmas market having occupied all of the available spaces. Now the car is facing the wrong way in a one way street.

But after a circuitous route past the buildings of the tax office, take a left into the tunnel.

The hot air in the tunnel condenses on the windows.
The car behind drives very close.
Can hardly see.
Start the windscreen wipers.
That is better now.
Start the rear wiper, now the close lights are not as dazzling anymore.

Everything is back in order.
Half an hour to work now.

green running men

Tuesday 3rd of December 2019

There is a grey bin in front of the door today,

the wife must have put it outside last night.

The street is dark and cold, the temperature

must be very close to freezing. It is half
past six inthe morning,

there are people

leaving the police station, shadow figures

picked out by the glistening on the

cobblestones

 from the crepuscular light of the street

lamps. Pass them, silent. They are probably

police at the end of their shift, maybe they

have had to work all night? 

Walk around the corner opposite to the

museum. There is a woman ahead,

she is just walking, dressed in an anorak.

Walk more slowly, and as soon as possible,

walk out into the road, there is the car

just ahead. Press the button on the key, and

the lights on the car blink as it is unlocked.

The woman walks on, she is on her

way home.

there is the car

Manoeuvre out of the parking spot, do a

U turn and carefully pass The Christmas

market. It is necessary to take care, because the owners of The market stands have

placed their wide trucks at the side of

the road, the road only has a single

lane now, and it is difficult with

there being two-way Traffic, and it being

dark and all.

Finally, leave the square, the square

with the big church and the christmas

market.

Take a right turn into the tunnel,

a long dimly lit tube, with green pictures

of running men to show the emergency

exits.

mon day

Monday, 2nd of December, 2019

Fumble the alarm in the dark, take the cover off the screen on the pad, andpress the buttons. Leave the bedroom,

walk over to the bathroom in the dark

and switch the lights on

The shower was taken the night, before, all that needs to be done now is to brush

the teeth. The electric toothbrush is messy

toothpaste has spread from the head to the

base. Wipe the instrument down under the flowing tap.

- after having cleaned the teeth

go to the kitchen in nightwear, turn on

the coffee maker. The sons alarm sounds

Return to the bedroom, put on clothing

 A

white shirt today.

Return to the kitchen, the son has a

request, to help him with the tent

spread out in the hallway to dry. It is

a large structure, it needs to be folded

so that it will fit into the carrier bag.

So go downstairs and help the son.

Be late leaving the house, and see that

there is a light covering of snow on the

car.

black Sunday

Sunday, the mental state is not good and the back aches. Not just the back, the shoulders. And the gas cooker like sound hissing in the left ear, the one that the doctor says will never go away, is loud, super loud today.
Black, and there is no wish to speak to anybody, cannot bear sympathy cannot bear no sympathy, just misery.
Pet the cat, she misunderstands and scratches.
Make coffee, sit down at the writing table.
Today is the day that the German right wing seems to be winning again, all those conspiracy seekers blaming the defenceless for their misery, for the countries misery.
Trump is blaming his misery on the country, and he is reported to be doing well as well as the british buffoon running around spreading nationalist shit after an unfortunate madman is shot for his stupid activity on London Bridge.
It is grey and cold outside, miserable.

The son unpacks a ready-made cake, Sunday breakfast.
Sit at the table, say not a word.
Not a single word.
untill the coffee has been drunk.
The cake has been eaten.
And then carry on, remain silent.

The son has a book to read
For school
a famous author
German
It is called the Perfume


The author has an Irish christian name.

It is black cold and miserable inside the head
An ordinary complete stupor would be good
lie down and go blank or something like that