rancid

 It is not easy to persuade the son to come along for a short walk to the town hall. He is hard to convince by reason or argument in his current state, whatever exactly that is. But after a wait, he comes alonong. Together we walk down the main road after crossin g the river. When we arrive at the door of the building there are people sitting around in front of it, waiting to be called up. There is a speakerphone beside the door, press the button, and hear an answer. It is possible to see the woman inside, sitting at her reception desk on the other side of the hall.

She explains that, on account of covid, appointments are necessary for even the most humble of dealings. Anyway, all of this is explained on the yellow note attached to the door. Explain to her in turn that it had been necessary to walk halfway across town to read this yellow notice. See her shrug in her glass box on the other side of the hallway that is visible in the window.

Wish her a good day. That is polite, but not really truthful.

Return to the town centre with the son. He is distressed by all of this.

Having reached the centre of town the decision is made to go to a café for a cup and a bite to eat, why not?

Arrive at the cafe and realise that a vaccination pass will be required to be allowed to sit down and have coffee. He runs home to get the forgotten pass.

Wait for him to return, this takes a while.

Have a cup of coffee and a buttered pretzel. The coffee is good. but the pretzel is stale and the butter is rancid.

It is nice to be in the café again in the company of the son