pay

Put on the mask whilst leaving the car. The car is parked under the tree, as always. The mask is a weak cheap papery thing given out by the personnel department at work, it is supposed to diminish the spread of the coronavirus.
From the pathway see a colleague in the distance, he has just parked his car as closely to his office as he can. He is staring, as if it where unusual for someone to be wearing a mask lately. He belongs to those who believe that for some reason they are safe from infection, and make fun of those who know that they are not.

Take a left, go into the glass brick porch with the new glass door, installed yesterday. There is that pendulum, perpetually swinging.

Hold the chip under the reader, the reader shows a message saying please report to the boss. Oh well, what is it this time. Probably a bad reading yesterday.
The mask smells musty, it was on yesterday too. It is made of paper, the question is how long are these things meant to last? They cannot really be washed.

Breathing heavily, like Darth from the film, open the door to the office.
Everything is as it was left yesterday.
Everything,

There is no work on the table.
Look at the painting on the wall

Sit down.
Start the computer.
Nothing there.

If there were pay for staying at home, then it would be the right thing to do.

appointment later

the kitchen, disaster struck in the night. The son had his midnight munchies, there is an opened jar of of chocolate nut cream for sweet sandwiches beside an opened package of sliced white bread designed for toasting. A knife is balanced upon the jar and there is a package of butter with the corner ripped open just lying on the table, beside the empty butter plate.

Put the butter on it's plate, discard the wrapping into the yellow plastic bag for packaging waste. Take the knife and the empty jar and perch them on the worktop over the dishwasher. Then put the jar into the container for waste glass. There is an empty glass jar of pickled  gherkins on the worktop by the toaster, pick it up and pour the liquid down the drain in the white stone sink. Put the empty jar down on the surface above the dishwasher.
Tidy a few more things away, Ah-
there is the coffee grinder. Make a cup of coffee using the small silver espresso machine, after checking to see whether it has enough water in it.
Before pressing the button let it heat up.
As it is heating empty the dishwasher of the crockery and cutlery, the pots and pans put in there the night before.
Fill it up a bit with things lying about, a pot from the stove, a few stray bits of cutlery.
The coffee maker is ready now, press the button after placing a cup underneath it

Take the cup into the bedroom, to the bureau in the corner.
Read the news.
Sort out the papers for todays visit to the building society.

There are things to be done whilst the family sleeps.
The cat jumps up onto the corduroy legs, and lets it's bag be stroked.
Purr

by the way

The yellow rectangle ahead is the end of a large truck, moving along at a steady pace, a speed of more the ten kilometres an hour above the speed allowed for vehicles of that type. Maintain a steady distance, use the button on the steering column to reduce speed and increase it again as the distance reduces and  increases.  To the left and to the right of the yellow square the landscape slips by, green and fresh in the morning light.
Tailgating trucks like this prevents the speeding cars on the motorway making attempts to pass on the same lame as the small smart car, which is a frightening habit of theirs. A large truck instills respect, most likely.
Once past the merging motorway from the airport, the truck moves to overtake an artisans van pulling a trailer. Let the yellow truck with it's huge container pull on, in a few hours it will be many kilometres away. Follow the artisans trailer for a while, and then leave for Gruneck along the slip road.
As the corner unwinds a warning triangle becomes visible, standing alone at the side of the road.
Just manage to brake in time to slow and overtake a car parked against the crash barriers at the side of the road. The driver of this car is wearing an orange vest, and is talking on his mobile 'phone.
Calling for help, a tow truck most likely.

Small things that happened by the way this morning.

empty offices, depression.

The car is parked under the tree as usual, that small tree left standing  when they made the temporary pebble parking place. Reverse the tiny car into the space, turn off the lights and turn off the engine, pick up the bag and leave the car in the space where it will remain all day.
There is a mask to be worn today, to keep the virus at bay.
There will be no work, because there are no congresses, and no lectures.
Check the equipment, clean the equipment.
That is what will be done.

There is the pendulum, in the stairwell, proving that the earth is round and that it rotates. Still swinging like a magnetic clock.

On the way up the stairs trip, and slip.
That is the way accidents happen, causal-like.
Nothing happened this time.

The people tearing up the roof on the small building that is due to be knocked down have started work. They are making noise, and they have no one to disturb.
Most of the offices are empty.

sunday stroll

The path is gravelled, between the trees. The trees are maples and sycamores, and everything is shady and under the green canopy. The ground slopes up steeply to the right of the path, the ground is covered with leaves from last autumn. These are old brown leaves now, steadily turning into humus due to the action of insects and microbes.
The son is impatiently walking ahead, he is sympathetic to his father's shortness of breath. He himself does not suffer from this, so he strides ahead, his long red hair blowing in the breeze, to stop and to look back, and maybe wait a bit. He agrees that the woods in the park are very beautiful, but there is always this impatience.
Some time later, at the top of the steep part of the hill, there is a park bench.
Sit down, and look at the town below, still visible through all the foliage. There are the spires of the smaller church towers below, the big church tower is still taller than the hill. Even from this position it is necessary to look upwards to see the golden cross at the top.
Take a picture of a heart inscribed into a tree trunk. The son takes the camera, explain the function of the rangefinder to him.
He takes a picture of his father.

There is an incline now, a slope  with cut grass on either side of the path. There are plenty of park benches here, but walk up to the fences around the small zoo. There is a large smelly pond with various water birds  swimmin on the surface. On the surrounding grass there are crows, and choughs, and a few peacocks.

There is also a bench, sit there and observe the birds.
The peacocks have a loud call, a call that sound like "me yow". Not like a cat, and much louder.

The son starts to suffer from an allergic reaction to some plant or pollen nearby.

Move on, and take the circuitous path back into town.

silver machine

A series of television serials until four in the morning, just one after another. An escape from reality, a story of historic gangsters, a long drawn out drama.
Until four in the morning, then to bed.

Sleep is very welcome after all of that murder and mayhem

At nine in the morning, awaken, bleary and still not as awake as should be possible, but it was less sleep than usual.

The wife is asleep.
The son is asleep.
The cat is not sleeping.
It is busy, running about, it is begging for food.

Find the clothes, put them on. Make a cup of coffee.
And then read the news,  the worldwide catastrophe is mounting.
Look at the tables, look at all the charts. It is hard to understand the things that the WHO is showing about the Americas, it is hard to understand how a government can be so foolhardy.

There is nothing but a weak feeling of depression inside.
Let them all sleep, drink the strong coffee from the silver machine. A small sense of elation, nothing wild.

decent

The Autobahn is like it was in the sixties, few cars and some trucks. A traffic blockage would make the news.
It is just that the fast cars are so much faster,

Draft a truck. that might save petrol. Also, closely following a huge truck means that the other drivers respect for the solidity of the enormous vehicle affects the follower too. They keep their distance, the racers, and change their lane well before passing.
They never pass in the same lane with such a big car ahead.

The truck leaves for the airport.
A small vehicle, a delivery van, passes, sharing the lane.
Frightening.


But there are so few cars on the road
People are in the same hurry as they always are.
Because they can drive fast they do.



arrive at work
there is not a soul
a workman in the distance

but all is quiet, all is silenced by the fear of infection,
all is silenced by the new law, the one that was made to reduce the danger of many infections.
That is done so that those who fall ill may have decent treatment. and that those who die may have a decent burial

unlocked

ten to six, get up,
go to the kitchen, turn on the coffee maker to let it warm up
go to the bathroom and
take a shower, brush the teeth, back to the bedroom stark naked at six, find some clothes in the wardrobe, a new shirt with fatal pins all over the place holding it neat for sale.
Remove the pins, check to see that there are no further pins.
Put on the blue sneakers that the bank gave to me as a gift. They are decorated with their owners name.

Then turn off the alarm on the tablet, it was not needed today.
In the kitchen, make some sandwiches for today.
The canteen at work has been closed, for corona's sake,


A morning cup of coffee later, leave the house and walk up the near empty street. But for the policemen coming and going from the station.

The car is there.
The same old road.
The same old tunnel

A bump in the road, and the back flap of the car swings up.
The interior lights go on.
A warning light goes on,

It must have been like that all night.
unlocked

analog fanatic.

The telephone rings, it is nine in the morning. The owner of the house next door is on the telephone, he is announcing his arrival in an hour's time.
Ok, that is good.
Take up the 'phone and press the buttons for the number of the man at the bank.
Say hello, hope that all is in order.
Much polite blather,
then make an appointment for the coming week.
The son is wandering about, wondering what is going on, and talking about the latest pet project. He should be at school, but he is not. It is because the school is closed, due to the virus. The virus lurking in a cranny somewhere, or maybe in a nook.
Start to tidy up the kitchen, sort all the carelessly left things back into their corners, wipe the table top of crumbs and sweep the floor with the brush, then gather it all into the dustpan and throw it into the bin.

At ten, go out of the front door, there is the owner of the house next door. He is waiting too, waiting for the building workers, his workers who are going to repair the wall, repair the roof, they are the ones who need access.

The building workers arrive, there are scaffolding specialists who come on foot, and the bricklayer who wants to repair the subsiding house by filling the cracks.
They talk, they measure.
They make an appointment.
And then they leave.

The neighbour is an amateur photographer.
He wants to talk shop.

He is right in everything he says.
He knows so much.

He is an analog fanatic, a silver freak.

work to do today

The car started without the slightest problem after it's four or five weeks resting in place. And the radio starts at once too.

Now it is back to the routine as it had been.

Follow the streets through the town, turn the lights on for the tunnel.

There is so little traffic, it is strange.

The motorways are deserted, but for occasional fast cars passing. Just follow a flatbed on it's path down the Autobahn, it is going faster than it should too.

The parking space is deserted, there is nobody there.

Park under the tree, just exactly like weeks ago.

Check in to the building with the small chip on the keyring, and say good morning to a colleague who also has work to do today.

And the pendulum is swinging, still in perfect time, a magnetic jolt compensating the any resistance every time the bob passes the centre of the circular surface below.

The office is the same as it had been left earlier, there is no change.

Start the machinery, the computer,

There is no change, but for the fact that the building is deserted.

There are so few people at work.

wind

20th April, 2020, Monday.

Remain on the park bench in the sun, This is a morning walk. A walk in the park, the park that had been made by the aristocracy for hunting pleasures, and now is owned by the state for the people.
The sky is blue from horizon to horizon, the bench is a the top of the hill. The sky is very big.
A couple pass by, two tiny dogs rush ahead. The little dogs ar officious in their nature, rushing, panting and sniffing.
Later on a mother and child and two dogs pass. They are on their way to the zoo.
There is a steady breeze, cool, it seems to be blowing from the north. The sunlight is bright and strong.
The birds fall silent, there is the sound of voices. Perhaps it is feeding time.

Maybe the son and the wife are awake

now, back down in the town.

The wind strengthens, blowing husks and dead leaves across the open spaces.

There is the sound of cracking, a sound of breaking branches to the rear.
And a crash as one falls.

a Sunday morning

The dim morning light from the window is fallen from a cloudy sky, sleep is over now. There is a new head for the razor, three bladed, and the rough feeling to the face dictates that it is time to shave.
Check that there is hot water from the tap, then spread shaving foam on the face after a wash with warm water. The new razor razes well, the stubble is removed, and most of the soap is drawn off as well. Wash the razor, clean the washbasin.

Then turn on the shower, and allow the remains of the soap and the dirt and dust accrued yesterday to wash away.
That was pleasant, and return to the bedroom, get dressed, and make coffee. These morning habits are important, because they induce movement even when the mind is still sluggish.
The wife is asleep, small snores now and again, and sometimes more regular ones

In the hallway there is a plastic basket of wet clothing, left there yesterday by the wife. Pick it up, take it into the attic, hang the clothing on the line. They are the wife's clothes, all washed yesterday. Take the basket down again, leave it in the hall beside the clothes press.
The plastic container from Ikea beside the bed has been filled with used clothes during the past week, they all need washing. Take the whole stack into the bathroom, place them in the washing machine, charge the machine with washing powder, and twist the knob until the arrow points to 40°. Press the button for extra water and push the start button.
The machines indicators light up and then it expresses disgruntlement in a rapid series of beeps. Open the door again, check that the rubber seal around the door is in place, and close the door.
Hard.
The machine's indicators light up, the numbers "140" appear, and there is the rushing sound of water in the pipes.
All is well.

Return to the bedroom, take the jacket, take the bag with the camera, and leave the house.

Take a Sunday morning walk in the park.

now an eighty two year old

wait on the path up the hill in the park. There is a bench ahead, and wait for a woman to pass. She is an older woman, and there is a hope that she will take a break after the climb and sit on the bench. This would be picturesque
She walks past the bench.
Up around the corner.
That makes for a different picture.

Farther on, there is a tree which has had names and initials and symbols carved into it's bark.
Align the camera, the man walking up the path behind the corner comes into view.
Take a picture.

Farther on the man stops, turns, and inquires as to the camera.
Tell him the brand, he says he collects those cameras.

Talk about cameras for half an hour.
Standing in the sun, at the side of the path.
Keeping correct distance, it will not do to promote infection.


A family approaches
move to one side,
let them pass, keeping their distance.

Say goodbye to the man, he is now an eighty two year old

A collector of cameras.

not a single word.

awake, as always the family sleeps. There is a letter to write today, to the brother. It is difficult, because it is to express disagreement, and yet it should maintain a fair distance.

Oh, family!

The immediate family is asleep, but for the cat, seeking attention, or some advantage.

Before starting, take a shower.

Before starting, empty the air dryer in the bathroom

Before starting, remove the washed dishes and cutlery from the dishwasher and put them all away

Before starting, read the mail

Before starting, read the news

Before starting, make a cup of coffee

Before starting, read the news again

Before starting, look at the offers on Ebay.

¡START!

Before starting, read the last mails, just for reference

Then start,

wish him well,

hope that there has been a good recovery,

then a few general things

then a bit more specific,

then (verbatim)

 The concept that such a limited number of competing participants are to decide on the value of the items that they themselves want to then buy seems to be inviting a corrupt assessment. Such an assessment would become even more questionable if false or otherwise erroneous valuations remain without consequences, ie there would be no obligation upon  the participants to buy the piece at the suggested value.
   The available funds being based on these valuations open interesting opportunities for manipulation. One concept that comes to mind is that items of no interest be overvalued, in the hope that competing buyers will waste their available funds if they purchase these items. If there is knowledge of which items are of particular interest to the other participants this method could be of use to secure this advantage. 
Averaging the separate values is problematic considering the small number of assumedly antagonistic participants. Over or undervaluations will only be weakly compensated for. Cooperations between groups of participants would be particularly effective in securing an advantage.

As in a game of Monopoly, there is no gain in assuming good faith in your partners in the game.

And to think, that such bile is not even angrily meant. The matter under discussion,is the work of the mother, long dead. She would be sad to see that her creativity poisons the relationship of her sons one to the other.

And that is the mornings work, an attempt to misplace not a single word.

zenith

16th April, 2020, Thursday

It must be close on one hundred metres above the town. this park bench.

There is the loud call of cooks and peacocks from the little zoo close by, and the quieter calls of the wild birds

Two ducks are hiding in the grass that has been left longer to allow the wild yellow flowers to bloom.

The walk up was strenuous, it was alarming to feel the need for more air, left the old lungs panting like a dogs, and

the heart racing, the unfitness of laziness and age. There is a seat twenty metres farther on, sit and wait for this internal activity to subside. Look up at the

tree tops, all in fresh bafe, the branch structure is clearly visible.

Take a picture of the leaves, then leave to

mount the rest of the hill.

There is a platform near the top,

providing a view over the town. The town is lit with the glaring light of the morning sun.

The sky is a blend from pale blue at the horizon to a dark blue at the zenith.

It is already a hot morning.

ding dong

The clock on the castle front tells the

time, but not the date. It had been an early morning at home.

wrong date.

The short walk through the park was nice, the solitude on the steep paths refreshing. The vegetation is thriving, slowly. It is slow because there is a

lack of water, there has been no rainfall for the previous weeks and weeks.

The clock bell chimes, it is now a quarter to twelve, three bells,

dong

ding dong.

A woman and a young child walk across the park in the middle distance, then start to approach, The child is talking and talking, a constant

chatter.

A single jet ancoaft passes high overhead,

it is the only one. It is so high up that it has passed by before the sound of it 's engines are to be heard.

Just sit on a bench, enjoy the sun,

be alone, there is no cat here and no

family, no work.

Just the sun, too enjoy.

First the work, then the walk.

a slow movement, the pleasure of awakening after a long sleep, and then the anger at there being no wish to get up and to do anything. Yesterdays work is still on the table, it is still in the machine.
The work involves the amount of payable by the tenant for her use of the central heating and a percentage of the running costs of the house.
An unsavoury business.
And then the tax returns need to be done as well.

The morning outside is grey.
Flat directional soft light on all the surfaces outside, no deep shadows.

Take a shower.
There is no wish to work.
And a walk is difficult, it is more than likely that there will be too many guilty feelings to allow this pleasure.

First the work, then the walk.

The cat on the corduroy

The cat on the corduroy-clad knees purrs in satisfaction, it is a warm cushion, it is a position of trust. The cat is irritated that her host is typing on the computer at the same time, maybe the cat would prefer to have her back stroked.
Easter Monday, a ceremony in springtime taken over by Christianity. The strange mingling of the story of Christ's betrayal and death and the older rituals of fertility, and the finding of hidden eggs.

Easter was a quiet celebration this year, on account of the virus. A sad ceremony for so many, all the newly bereaved, those killed by a virus' sudden appearance in the world.

The cat has jumped down, because the son's alarm clock sounded. The cat has hopes of being fed.
The cat is the only company awake at this hour, the wife is still asleep, she was up late watching television, and the son is still asleep, he was up late chatting with his friends on the computer. Sit and write this, these small accounts of daily non events, things that repeat.

The day is grey.
It is overcast.
And a bit chilly.

Perhaps a walk would be a good idea.

the clock is not

Bells ring from the church at the end of the alley, and a mobile 'phone alarm sounds from the son's bedroom. It is eight in the morning, Easter Sunday. What news there is on the net has been read, and now there is time to think of making yet another cup of coffee.
The sun is still low, and the town outside is quieter than it ever was, even on a Sunday.

The clock has stopped, it stopped at midnight. It is a small clock from France, well, it may be that the battery has just run down. The son appears from his bedroom, his face full of sleep.
He has a device for measuring electrical batteries in his room, ask him if he could. Take down the clock, take out the battery. The son makes a measurement.
The battery is in order, the clock is not.


That is a bad start to the day.
A day to be spent at home.
To abide by the rules.
to contain the contagion.

Take the clock down, put in a fresh battery.
Just in case it makes a difference.
It does not.

Take the clock down again
Examine the tiny contacts, they are covered in black corrosion.
It is from the copper and the brass, maybe the electric current helped.

With the tip of the screwdriver remove the deposits, carefully scratching.
The old eyes do not help, these things are all very small.
It takes a short while, then the contacts are clean again.

Hang the clock back onto it's place on the wall, let the pendulum swing.
Now it swings and does not stop.

park bench

Talking to the tenant in her office on the ground floor this morning. The door to her office is open, as always,  and today it lets in the Easter Saturday morning sun.
She is in a good humour, she will see her family in the small town despite social distancing rules. Say nothing about this, she will not be alone. It is foolhardy, but there is no stopping madness.

A short discussion on maintenance matters, and rent, and then that is all. Continue on the walk to the big park, it is eleven in the morning. There are few people about, the neighbour says good morning in passing, he is on his bicycle, maybe returning from the shops.

There is a young woman walking ahead with a swaying pigtail. She is carrying a box, this is strange. Why would somebody carry a large cardboard box into the park. Inside the park she takes the steep path. Take a left at the junction, there is a chance of being left alone here, a chance of not bothering anybody and being bothered by nobody. Then take the steep path, the one that leads to the devil's bridge. The devil's bridge is a wooden causeway, made where the terrain is to steep for a path.

Far ahead there is an older man, walking slowly. Slow down to let him go ahead, there is no wish to overtake him at all.  He is a man with white hair and a bit of a stoop.

At the top of the hill look back, look out over the town, the tips of the church spire of the small church is below the level of the horizon now, the one of the big church is taller. It is the tallest brick built church spire in Europe.

Sit on a park bench for a while, then go on.

save for another day

The man in the mirror has white hair, hair that is too long. The onset of all these closures left him with no time to go to a barber, and now the hair just grows. How would you deal with that, maybe just shave the head if it gets to be too bad.
That would be a new experience.
Take out the shaving foam, and cover the face, after first having washed it with warm water. Shave of fthe stubble that has grown for the last four days, the razor is holding well. Wash out the handbasin, send all the foam and the flakes of facial hair down the drain. The drain is slow, it takes a few minutes to clear. Then rinse out the basin again.
The hair on the head survived, this was just an idea. Perhaps tomorrow.

Then take a shower. The glass front of the shower is grey with lime deposits from the warm water. It will need cleaning again.

The man in the mirror has hair that looks tidier now. It is wet, does not stand up at all angles, combed it even looks respectable.
Save the head shave for another day.

maybe tomorrow

This is worth getting up earlier for, the peace and quiet of the morning, a quiet solitary breakfast, just a slice or two of bread and cheese. There is no sound but the ticking of the clocks, the town outside has become quite quiet due to the imposed restrictions. The virus has forced an end to the uninhibited travel and movement, an end to all congregations, and has left the town in lear air and silence.
A short walk to the supermarket is planned for later on, there will be time for a walk in the park.

The silence and the ticking of the clocks, the hiss of the coffee machine. There are three clocks running now, a small  french ATO mantel clock, it is ticking but the silly thing can not keep time.

There is a neighbour to be heard out on the street, she is discussing something, just the voice comes over, no content. A single car passes. That is it.

The sun is still low in the sky, but the sky is clear and blue. It has not rained for weeks now, and there are no contrails any more, air traffic has been reduced to a tiny minimum. Look at the mess in the living room, that will be a thing to clear up later on.
Or maybe tomorrow.

goat

Just a shirt and a jacket today, the trousers from yesterday, and a walk in the sunny warm park in the morning. There are parents carefully leading their children out for a daily walk in the park.
The park is on a hill by the town, and it is a steep climb up. There a regularly placed park benches, a boon when the heart starts to race, unable to keep up with the hard work of transporting the old body up the hill.
Stop to take a few pictures, this is practice for work with this camera. The maple trees are flowering with their tiny green blooms, so one of the notices in front of the trees says. Also, there are significantly more blooms than yesterday. Soon the park will be a mass of deep green, as all the trees come out in full foliage.
People are not avoiding each other, they are maintaining their distance from each other, carefully taking the other side of the path. A few people are wearing face masks. Perhaps these will provide protection from the virus.

There are women with their children watching the animals in the small zoo. The peacocks call to each other, and then one opens up his feathers in the typical display.


A small child strokes a goat, the goat seems happy enough.

face masks

Leave the park at the exit behind the town tunnel, and walk past the school buildings, now deserted. It would normally be easter holiday time now anyhow. There are alleys between the houses, for pedestrians and cyclists only, and proceed with the morning walk.

At the end of the alley, sit down on a stone pollard there, take out the mobile 'phone and ring up home. There is a grocery store around the corner, it would save time to buy a few things on the way back. The 'phone makes the connection, but there is no sound to be heard. Try again, but there is the same result. Try yet again, the connection is made, but there is no sound.

The 'phone rings, press the green button, and there is the irritated wife saying that there was nothing to be heard.

She says that there is not much to shop for, memorise the list, and hang up.


There are people with face masks in the shop, everyone is doing their best not to go to close to each other. Everyone has fear of an infection, everyone is unsure of how to protect themselves.

Take the things out of the shelves, and pay the cashier stuck behind her plexiglass cage.
Things have changed suddenly, and quickly

Ducks and drakes

Low solar reflection from the cobbles, the early sun is glaring through the haze from the dampness exuded from the trees. It has not rained for some time now, there is almost reason for concern. There is a couple by the museum with a short legged long beagle-like dog, both dressed in sports gear, both looking as if they spent the night celebrating and slept badly as a result. They go towards the main park entrance, and to avoid them walk past the horrible block of brick-faced flats from the seventies of the last century.

There is a small path, folllow it and enter the park by a side entrance there. There is a view of the sculpture museum and the castle.

Take a picture, it is a nice view.

Perhaps somebody else will think so too.

There is a path leading up the steep hill in the park, a serpentine path. Up ahead, the couple with the beagle dog are running up the path. The run turns to a shuffle and breaks down into a walk. These people are not as fit as they would like to be.

At the very top of the hill there is a flat stone sculpture.

The surface is nicely brought into a sharp relief by the flat angle of the low sun.

Pass the small zoo, in the distance a peacock fussing about a pair of peahens.

Drakes pursuing ducks, both in the air, on land, and in the water.

The pedestrians go out of each others way.

plan for a walk

As every day now up early, alone. It is Sunday, but that is losing any real meaning. It is utterly silent out of doors, despite it's being a warm day.
Make a cup of strong coffee to start the day with, read the news on the computer. See that the disease that has humans in it's grip is not abating, it is changing the life of the planet.
Outside, the sound of a car. It is eight thirteen in the morning.

The room is silent, the family asleep. The cat is up and about, begging for food. Let her beg a while longer, she is a large and heavy cat.

Think about where to go today, on the short walk allowed in the park. It is strange having to keep distance to people, people to whom there would never have been any wish for physical closeness anyhow. Perhaps it will be good to follow the path through the castle parklands and then go down to the town along by the river.

listen to the birds

The park is a mass of trees here, on the steep slope from the town walls behind the Fritz Koenig museum. The path climps up this slope in sepentines, at one point a gallery out of wooden beams guides the walker around an outcrop of stone cliff. The breath is very short, the lung infection at Christmas is still causing distress. Further lung infections are just not needed.

There is a park bench there, take a break, sit down, listen to the birds. The town is quiet, and there are very few walkers in the park. In the distance there is the sound of an ambulance horn, or maybe it is a fire brigade.


Later on, at the top of the hill, pass yet another Fritz Koenig sculpture and then go to the viewing platform, look over the virus-silenced town.
This is a reasonable start to the day.

walk

Leave the house after having filled the waste paper from the kitchen waste paper bin into the big blue collection bin at the entrance. Leave the kitchen bin there, beside the blue bin, it can be picked up later after the walk.
It is a sunny warm day, walk along the alleys past the priests house, then cross the market street, then take the alley by the police station. There is the small black car, the car that has not been started for two weeks now. It is still there, it is still dirty. Take the path along by the new private car park, and then into the park, The park is full of trees, and is laid out on a slope, going all the way up to the castle on the one side, and to an uncultivated garden and a playground the other. It is like a forest in the middle of the town, deer used to be kept there for the hunting amusement of the gentry.
Walk up the long steep path, be out of breath soon. There is a tall tree stump, nearby, maybe ten metres tall. The top of the tree was torn off in a storm, and now this huge stump is being used as a tower block by no less then six pairs of woodpeckers. They have made a series of holes in the wood for their nests, and they are all constantly coming and going.

When the breath has returned walk on. There is a small monument there for the fallen during the first world war, all students of a secondary school. The names of soldiers in the second world war have been added around the plinth. There place of death is written there too, many in France. The monument is damaged, that was either frost, or else maybe a tree fell upon it. Maybe vandalism.


Near the top of the hill there is a small enclave for animals, a small zoo. There are goats and deer. Various birds, a pair of peacocks and water fowl. The hens have broken out of their enclave and are running around the park.

There are more visitors here, on their daily family walk. Maintain safe distance to them, imagine all those virus' straining to find new hosts.

There is a platform with a view all over the town. Admire the town, listen to the ambulance horns in the distance. The ambulance and the fire brigade, they have a lot of work to do these days.

time waster

there is nothing left but a fog where there used to be perceptions, distantly the son's alarm clock is beeping, there is no clarity about what the noise is. There is dazzling soft light, and the bed is warm. Try to account for the steady beeping with some explanatory dream. Hear the wife's voice, high in anger, telling the son to shut down the noisy clock.

That is it, awake now. All the soft and fuzzy things around about coalesce to their usual shapes, the small table beside the bed, the window, the bureau,  the view of the glazed-over balcony outside the window. All is there now. The alarm has stopped.

Get out of the bed, levering the heavy body up into a sitting position, then going out to the bathroom. Last night had been really cold, remember the forecast from yesterday, temperatures of minus ten in the night. The tiles are icy underfoot, flush the toilet in this minimally heated bathroom and brush the teeth.

Return to the bedroom, pick up the laptop computer, and go to the sitting room. There is the son, he wishes a good morning. He is eating a bowl of German müsli, oats and fruit in milk. That is healthy, at least. Wish him a good morning too, make coffee.

Staying up late last night to watch a film was a waste of time, and the film was no better. A dreary account of space rescue, a sort of space opera.
Stupid, but so be it.
A late night.
A waste of time.

gallery

The neighbour owns a gallery, he makes exhibitions for artists there. He is preparing a new one, going by the sound of nails being driven into the wall, the other side of the sitting room wall. Who knows when he will hold this exhibition, what with the closure of all public gatherings.

It is morning, the day has started alone, the wife and the son are asleep, even the cat has gone to bed somewhere. There is just the ticking of the clocks, both of them working away. They are mechanical, and not perfectly synchronous.

The sounds outside are at the low level demanded by the virus, there is little traffic. There is a clear quality in the air that has never been seen before, the cars are not blowing their fumes because of the curtailment of movement. Nobody is going anywhere, and the planet is doing it's best to recover quickly. That is the pleasant interpretation.

The neighbour is still putting his nails into the wall, who knows what he needs them all for.
The sound is irritating, because of it's irregularity. It is almost as if he were deliberately trying to annoy people, which he is not. He just wants to hang his pictures.

This is now the beginning of the third week of isolation, there is nowhere to hide any more.

Leave these notes now, go to take pills and make another cup of warm drink