grey bauble

The last section of todays walk, the section between the café (three amaretti today) and home drags. The feet hurt, and all the people around have the appearance of idiots, shouting. There are the usual people racing their bicycles in between the pedestrians.

And then there is the message from the Chinese tradesman asking that an item be returned to ensure compensation.

It is all rubbish, and a fraud.

Today is a day  for depressions, today is not a day upon which anything happened worth writing about. It is all grey, everywhere.

At home, start to arrange things, and then the son comes home. It is in order to look for a watch for his grandfather, a thing to thank him for his generous presents over the years.

And then the voice comes in from the off, like in the theatre, telling stories of cheapness and easy thrills. There is no such thing as an expensive gift to be had cheaply.

That is nonsense.

A thing of value is always costly, no matter how it is paid for.

Wander around town with the son, and he chooses carefully. And then wander around with the wife. She says that the watches are too expensive.

A cheap watch is nothing else but an easy insult, a glowing bauble.

And that on a grey day like this.