sun burnt

It is such a lovely day, intuition had suggested wearing the light trousers and the running shirt under the rain jacket. The rain jacket still damp from yesterday. The body still tired from yesterday. The view over the town at the first viewpoint showed the town in yellow sunlight under a flawless blue sky, the clouds of yesterdays rain still in a front on the horizon. At the second viewpoint a group of people drinking sparkling wine. Take the walk over the Moniberg, and on over the muddy path down to  Schweinebach.

Take a picture of a deformed flood grating there.

During the following climb up the hill to the nature preserve take off the jacket. Just the grey shirt in the sun.

There are more people out riding horses today than uqsual.

Take a picture of the shadow of a tree on the white wall of a farmhouse.

At the turning point, lie down on a bench made out of a wooden tree trunk split lengthways, and fall asleep in the sun.

On the way back home, walking along the reservoir and then the river watch the hundreds of swans and the cormorants. For some reason tiredness has taken an early toll of the activities today, it has become necessary to sit down more frequently.

Enjoy the evening cup of coffee upon the return to Landshut.

The face is burning with a small sunburn.

disgruntled ducks

 In the morning get up early, in time to turn off the alarm clock before it really gets started. At that stage the first cup of coffee is drunk. Start to wonder if all that coffee could be the cause of high blood pressure.

The weather outside is deadly grey, like the old standard Kodak card, seventeen percent reflectance, parts of the yard are black in the shadows. There is the steady dripping and gurgling from the gutters. All of the black jeans have been sprayed with mud, they really look filthy, as if they had not been washed for weeks, despite the last pair having only been worn once, yesterday, during that long walk beside the motorway. The walk that ended with frozen legs and wet trousers.

Fill the washing machine with the four besplattered trousers and whatever else had accrued during the past week in the translucent plastic dirty clothes trunk. Run the washing machine at thirty degreees, hotter makes no sense and might harm some of the fabrics in the mix.

Find the rain pantalons in the wardrobe under the jackets, that place that things vanish into when they cannot be classified simply. They are still packed, as they were when bought in the food store. Remove all the card and plastic and put them on over the last remaining pair of lighter black trousers. They should at least keep the legs dry. Put on the black jacket too. 

The weather is revolting, there is no other way to describe it. The paths are partly slippery mud, or inundated entirely, or have turned into small streams transporting the water out of the hills around the valley. The fabulous jacket from work starts to develop leaky patches.

The bus at the terminus near Schönbrunn is a tempting proposition, but then the sun comes out. The decision is made not to take the bus.

Ten minutes later, the downpour starts again, Even the ducks by the river are gathering in disgruntled groups under the bridges.

log

Today's path led all the way through town to the railway station and then up the flood channel to just before it joined the river. A turning along the crown of a flood dyke eventually led to the motorway. It was possible to see all the cars and trucks speed by behind the fence, all leaving plumes of rainwater whipped up from the road surface behind them. The only way to continue was to follow the lane beside the fence until there was a turnoff away from the Autobahn. The Autobahn is very noisy with it's constant freight of cars.

At the bridge carrying the Autobahn  over the river there is a metal pole with two signs on it, on showing a line at the lever of the floods in 1999 and one for the floods in during 2010. Realise that the whole landscape around about was indundated, that the path was at least two metres under water.

Follow the long riverside path all the way back to Landshut. There is a tree trunk in the river, and it is moving at the same walking speed. At one point it hits the bank of the river, then it is caught by the current again and floats out to the middle of the river.

Part ways with the tree trunk in Landshut, it passes under the bridges heading for the Maxwehr. At some stage it will be caught in the reservoir where all the birds are.

oxen and rain

 the cold is nasty, creeping into the back by way of the waist, over the belt and under the shirt somehow. Put on a black jacket left by the job, still with their logo, and warm too. A present from work. No, lifted from work. But they do not care.

It is late, it is ten in the morning, and it is time to take the walk. The son is working in the workshop, attempting to weld together a tool to help him repair his car. His car is a ruin of a vehicle, sixty years old, built in Eastern Germany as a cheap transport solution for the populace. A socialist car, quite minimalistic in  every way. Tell him to keep a fire extinguisher handy close by whilst he is welding and angle grinding, because of the combination of sparks and containers of combustible fluids in the workshop.

It is cold and clammy today, the kind of horrible cold that does not really show on a thermometer. Walk up the piano of the oxen, the only oxen being the tourists walking ahead. They are making up theories about oxen climbing these stairs. Imagine the now-pristine stairs covered in bovine leavings, as would surely happen if a herd was driven up this narrow path. The ridges in the path would prevent the animals and the people slipping.

It is easy to be out of breath today, realise that the medicine has been forgotten, the pills have not been taken. It probably does not matter.

Later it starts to rain. Take a picture of a gravel path in an orchard. There is something very nice about it, but it is hard to say what it is.

Here:

Path behind the mulberry garden

It starts to rain, the sky closes in. The jacket taken from work is waterproof, they were mindful of quality.

Shorten the walk, it is wet and miserable, and who cares?

Only nine kilometres today, that is nothing much. But the weather is so nasty, it is just not nice.

ordures

 A day of misery, everybody stays in bed. Get up, shower, make coffee.

Everybody else, the wife the son, and the cat stay in bed. Fast asleep or something. There is nothing worth waking for. Check on the news using the computer, there are no newspapers to read really. Read a technical magazine about DNA, chromosomes and cells. It is good that it is not too complicated. The old head starts to hurt.

And they are all still asleep.

After the son has awakened and taken his shower turn of the water main, remove the tap and mixing valve from the bath and replace it with the new one. Tighten the fittings carefully and then turn on the water again. It all works well. What a surprise! Searching for the tools before the work started took very much longer than the work itself. It is pleasing that the new fitting works better than the old, and does not have the slightest tendency to drip.

Remember to take the pills for the blood pressure.

Find a large bucket downstairs and take it up to the meanwhile three buckets full of kitchen biological waste. None of the family likes the chore of taking the waste down the street to put it into the waste bins provided by the town. Fill the bucket with two of the small buckets from the balcony and carry the bucket filled with filthy waste down the street. Pretend that this is a normal thing to be doing. The burgers of Landshut look faintly disgusted at the sight of all the vegetable peelings and so forth in the bucket. They don't have to look though. Open the brown municipal waste bin and dump the fetid ordure into this bin. Go back to the house for the second load, remembering to empty the small container from the kitchen as well. Take this bucket down the street too, and empty it into the container. This container is next to the museum.

Return home, clear away the bucket, replace the tools in the toolbox, and notice that the blood pressure pills have started to work. 

It will be necessary to talk to the doctor about this, next year perhaps.

Italian coffee

 After leaving the Carrossahöhe viewpoint an older man stops and a conversation ensues. It is strange, all the things that he talks about, making conversation. Mention the school of the same name, and he comes up with some untrue stories. Point out that this is surprising news, as the son goes to the named school, and he has not spoken of these things. The man retracts his account, apparently he has confused the names of the schools.

He takes another path , the one into the housing area nearby. Wish him a good day and continue the roundabout way through by the fields. Decide to try what looks as if it might be a pleasant walk along a hedgerow, but this turns into a nightmare of fallen trees and broken bHranches blocking the route. Find a path eventually, this leads into the housing estate.

Hear a "hello" call, and turn. The man is there again. Resume conversation with him, and notice that there are far too many details about himself coming across in this conversation. This is uncomfortable, it is indiscreet. He starts to talk about his experiences on Irish holidays, and his fishing experiences. He explains in some detail were he lives. He divulges things which would be madness to divulge on Facebook. He talks and talks.

Until a path under  the road becomes visible, which promises to be an escape route. Point this out to him and go that way quickly.

It is a simple wish to be alone on boxing day, a walk through the cold bare forests and then down to the river to walk back into town for a cup of coffee at the favourite Italian.

Dogs on Christmas Day

 Walk up the river in the rain, there are very few people about today, it being Christmas Day. Perhaps that is one of the bigger advantages of the institution. Walk all the way up to the motorway bridge, listen to the cars pass on the road surface of the bridge high above. There is no way that the bridge was equipped for pedestrians, this would most likely be most illegal.

It has been getting steadily darker for the past hour, and soon there will be no light at all. Follow the dim stripe of pale hardcore surfacing the path along the river. The way back seems much further than the way in the other direction,  and there is nobody else out tonight.

There are not even those people out walking their dogs.

Maybe dogs do not shit on Christmas Day.

roses

 Such a quiet Christmas Eve, town still full of furious car drivers in their cars in the morning, and deserted streets by the early afternoon.

It is so quiet, a last tour by the shops to pick up a few items and return home.

It was ten kilometres this morning, a short walk. Still, the legs are sore and, in a strange way, cold. It is as if the skin itself is cold. 

After a while, just lie down and cover the legs with a blanket.

Fall asleep.

"Happy Christmas" everybody, that is anybody who is listening.

Outside the children's clinic a rosebush was blooming, a day after the frost

.

stay

 It is strange when the skin is shivering cold and the rest of the body is not. There is something wrong, and  no,  idea what it is.

There was a sale in the night, an item forgotten about in the sales list on the Ebay platform. Then somebody wanted it, first an attempt to make a silly offer, and then a purchase at the full price. So pack a package this morning, print a label. Give the little parcel to the package service, and that is that.

Decide to stay at home today, nothing appears to be working properly, and taking a long walk today might well turn out to be a mistake. Resolve to take it easy in this colder weather.

Stay

at 

home

just like THAT

 It was a lovely day to go walking today, it was cold and the muddy paths are frozen solid and easy to walk on. 

In the park, listen to the booming of the Nandu birds. They are amusing now. There seem to be two males, and they have a dispute.

The walk is much the same as yesterday, it is just that it is colder, and there are few people about . The café has a new waiter, and he is not a friendly person. Perhaps somebody should tell him that it is not part of his job to be unfriendly to his guests. But it makes no difference to the coffee, it is as good as it always has been. Try to make sense out of some messages on the 'phone, then decide that they are probably just a scam. These are not people worth ringing back, who knows what the charges will be.

Remember to buy salt for the dishwasher before returning home.

Return home, and realise that twenty kilometres daily may be more than the body will take just like that.

clematis

The Rhea birds (Rhea americana (Linnaeus, 1758) ) have been moved into the smaller enclosure along with the goats. It is easier to take their pictures here. One of them is making a deep trumpeting noise, perhaps this is facilitated by their long necks. There is one new bird there, he is more aggressive than the others, perhaps it is a male of the species.

Rhea americana(Linnaeus, 1758)

Nandus, is what they call them here.

Walk past the children's clinic again, and onward  past the brewery and up the steps to the Moniberg. Watch the fog slowly fade away from the town as the sun reaches into the valley. The church spire is the most clearly visible part, sticking out of the fog and illuminated orange by the sun.

It is a cold morning, there is hoar frost everywhere, all the trees are white with it. It is so much more beautiful than all the Christmas finery that the people in town decorate their houses with. On the return to Landshut, just before the cup of coffee at the Italian's, try to take a picture of a clematis caught in the sunlight reflected in the river. The beauty of the real thing is not well realised, but it will give you an idea.

flight

After leaving the park go down the road towards the children's hospital. As usual, there are cars parked at the side of the road. Today, one of them has a passenger inside, just sitting there. Think nothing of this, sometimes people like to wait in cars, walk on.

A voice calls, begging to be excused. The accent is foreign. Turn, there is a small woman, she asks for a mobile 'phone so that she may call her husband whom she says is in the clinic. This is unusual, but so what. She explains that her telephone has run out of credit.

Whatever. 

She has a seventeen second conversation with somebody in a slavic language. And then, the walk continues. It is much the same walk as yesterday, except that there is a bright blue sky and it is colder.

Take a picture of birds in flight after sunset.

dazzle lights

It was a longer walk today, nearly five hours, ending in the dark walking along the river bank. A fair stretch, nearly twenty kilometres. The light on the open grasslands was beautiful, the grass almost seemed to glow. The old radio tower reached into the low clouds, just the base remained visible. 

Take the path beyond the tower, all the way down the steep slope, and arrive at the bottom before the light fails completely. 

Follow the path, cross the road, follow the footpaths now.

Just before the light goes completely cross the bridge over the small canal behind the dyke around the lake. Climb the steps up onto the dyke, and there, in the last light, are hundreds of sleeping swans on the still and smooth water of the lake.

Follow the pale sand of the path. Dressed darkly runners on the path hardly realise that there is anybody there, stand well to one side to let them pass. After a few kilometres Christmas lights appear between the trees, some simple and elegant, and others wildly complex and animated.

It takes another hour to reach the brightly Christmas-lit streets of Landshut. It is getting cold, this is not surprising as cold weather has been forecast.

Small children are running around with balloons with equipped with bright LED lights, so many lights dazzling the eye.

photos in the dark

The gallery is showing pictures on paper made for aquarelle painting, they have been printed digitally. Some are nice, all have this strange quality, as if they had been painted.

The owner talks, and talks technology, and is dumbfounded when he hears of the exhibition in the reactor building. He wants the show for his gallery. Explain why, though a nice idea, this would be difficult. And there is no chance of anyone coming up for the costs.

Afterwards, the walk by the castle and over the bluffs around the town in the growing darkness. Watching all the lights of the town come on is a novelty, it is nice to see this. Take a picture of a cyclist coming up the path.

woman pushing a bicycle up Rakoskiweg, Landshut.

It is a steep path named after a Hungarian hero. The picture would be better in black and white.

Later, down by the river, another view, another cyclist, and this one is better in colour.

But it is dark, and the camera can only do it's best. Cyclist by the Isar.

spent energy

 the little article celebrating the exhibition has been published on the internet. It may be of no importance to anybody but it is nice to have the recognition. There is even a picture of the photographer with the three directors of the institution, all holding their glasses of sparkling wine.

It is an unimportant event attended by important people.

What else is to be said about an article that nobody reads apart from the subject of the article?

Today is yet another winter-grey day, the walk up to the castle vanishes into the fog, and the view downwards from the viewpoint is limited in a like fashion. Still, it is elating, to be able to walk this humble distance without suffering. Whilst standing to consult the mobile 'phone a man on an electrified bicycle passes in the other direction, churning up the mud on the path between the fields

Remember to buy pretzels in the supermarket, and return home again. 

The energy is spent.

feels good

Today the exhibition was officially opened, all three directors present, that was all because of covid. That is : that is an immense honour for what was just a photographer working for the institution in Garching near Munich.

The three directors arrived and sparkling wine was served, four glasses altogether, and speeches were made. The photographer was surprised at the generosity, and surprised too at the praise the photos received. Praise from the three directors, no less.

They talk and they chatter, on and on. The graphic artist who designed the text for the exhibition takes the pictures, the photographer cannot for he is otherwise engaged. The show may turn into a permanent feature, in place for a long time, who knows. 

The photographer feels his head swell. This effect must be the sparkling wine.

No, it is all the praise. It came sparsely over the last twenty years, and now it pours out profusely. You know, it feels good.

centre

 No big walk today, not even a little one. The nasty tiredness left over after the covid injection number three persisted for half the day, and there is no need to overdo things. It is strange to be so tired that it is difficult to actually get out of the bed, all the muscles normally used for this purpose just do not function as they should. So no big walk.

Instead, deal with the parking permit that needs to be renewed every year. Upon arriving at the office where these things are normally distributed find a notice on the door saying that an appointment is necessary. Then the door opens, and a woman invites me in. She knows all about what the purpose of the visit is, so ask her how on earth she knows this.

It turns out to have been a case of mistaken identity, so leave the building again and make space for the person whose appointment it in actual fact was. Use the mobile telephone to make an appointment, give the details, and wait.

The door opens and a woman comes out with the documents and the change for the thirty Euro's that had been promised.

Return to the car and install the document so that it is clearly visible through the windshield. Take last years document, all faded from it's year in the bright light behind the windshield, and leave it in the nearest municipal waste bin.

Later, a package arrives from the printers. There are two books inside it, both the same, one for the youngest brother and one for the eldest. Pack the one book back up again, and add a note and a usb stick in case the pictures are needed in original size. Or maybe even to "share" with others. Then take the package and the letter to the camera company and go to the post office. Finish off the afternoon's activity with a visit to the café.

Watch the italian proprietor fuss over his baby girl. She is obviously the centre of his life at the moment

watch and thank

 The Crazy Bean is still were it used to be in Garching. The man is still as friendly as ever, he says that he can't complain and that business is in order considering the circumstances.

It is strange to be in the glazed room again, looking out into the university. Today is the day that the exhibits are being  hung, the eighty six pictures of the last twenty years in the reactor. The people hanging the are all terribly professional, and know there job. The strange thing is, the pictures are being stuck to the wall using silicon. This is unusual, but it has to do with the fire restrictions here.

It is strange to see all the familiar faces again, even though it is only six months. Nothing has changed, not even the car park in front of the reactor. This is still under construction.

People work more slowly when they work for the government.

The day is going to be slow and boring,

There is nothing to do but to watch, and then to say thank you!

mud

 The mud on the paths is stickier and more slimy than yesterday. This diminishes the pleasure of walking considerably. The paths have been kneaded by the mountain bike tyres of all those off-road cyclists enjoying nature in their way. As the paths progress further and further away from town, their condition becomes more and more desolate.

It is a grey and sorrowful day, but the necessity for the daily walk has overridden the discomfort, especially as tomorrow's activities will make a walk difficult. Tomorrow the exhibition is to be hung, nearly six months after the date originally proposed. So what, the content of the exhibition is all dated stuff, things to feed nostalgia.

Proceed down the Schwedenfeldweg, and down to the crossroads at Schönbrunn. Wait to cross the road there, and then follow the signposts to the town's vaccination centre, show the passport and all the other documentation required, and then a short wait, a short conversation with a doctor, and then the injection.

After the injection a ten minute wait is obligatory to make sure that there are no immediate adverse reactions. 

And then continue the walk for the last three kilometres along the left hand bank of the Isar, up to the city powere plant and a cup of Italian coffee. It really is not a nice day, the shoes are covered in mud from the filthy paths.

A while ago the paths were icy, now they are churned-up mud.

muddy walkers

 The walk today was shorter, a path was explored which turned out to be a muddy shortcut. The walking shoes are all muddy as a result. Walking was hard work today, it was unpleasant. There is no knowing what is wrong but the breath has gone short again, maybe it is just the colder weather. But everything is sore, it is a bit of a pain.

People are friendly, some recognition. Perhaps it is just age that makes a single white haired man harmless, so that people will greet him.

But it is all miserable, the weather grey and the ground muddy.

not available

 Today is the day that started with great intentions and now it is the day during which the flat was never left, even the bedroom was in constant occupation. It was a day of misery, one where the weather outside was dull dark and colourless. A day so uninviting, and there is no news from anybody. The wife complained about the sons untidiness, he is a teenager now rushing about town in the evening. Never mind the pandemic. At least, it does not appear to be in critical focus. 

Back to the room, and read a novel. There is nothing in this Saturday, and the energy to move out and make things better is not available.

purr

First thing today is to go to the barber's and to have the hair cut. The hair is getting thinner as the years go on, but it still looks awful when it is too long and straggles over the head like bog cotton or old man's beard. There will be that meeting end of next week with the directors, and then to have a picture in some paper.

And on the fourteenth the pictures are to be stuck to the wall. It will do to have the hair cut first, and hope that one of the suits still fits.

Todays walk starts later and is in the other direction. Go into the hilly land before landshut to the right of the Isar. The paths on the bluffs here are in very poor condition, it is hard to say whether there are really paths at all, or whether they are just tracks left by the hunters and their prey. There is a light coating of snow over everything, and as the way leads out of the valley the paths get icy and slippery. It is all very pretty with all the ultra-tidy german farmhouses everywhere.

The path ends in two disappointments. The one is the long road through a  quite depressing suburb, and the other is that the bridge over the river marked on the map is closed for public use. See that there is a smaller bridge upstream, that is something to note for the future.

Return to Landshut, stopping in a shop to buy some bread and cheese.

Return home to find the house empty but for the cat. She jumps onto the tired knees of her seated human and commences to purr.

better than nothing

 Today, another strange awakening, too early by far, and then just a collapse after breakfast, a delicious sleep after coffee and poached egg on toast. The sequence of things is going away, being replaced by odd desires and commitments. The italian place will sell one less coffee today.

Wait for the post, the big package with the photographs arrives. They are black and white prints on photographic paper, and they are quite nice. Write a greeting note, repack them and buy a postage label online. Stick it on, gather the rest of the mail, and go to the post office. Give them to the woman behind the counter and return home to pick up the forgotten camera.

It is twelve days until the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. But it is getting dark so early now, at four in  the afternoon walking along the river it is already dim and miserable. But it is a nice little walk, the days minimum due. Nine kilometres is not so far, but it is better than nothing.

forgot the eighth

 Yesterday was strange, a day that was forgotten. It was a nice enough day, but the walk had to be cut shorter than planned.. The cold weather is not making things any easier, the day seems to have just been one worth forgetting.

The town is full of Christmas shoppers and all the various attempts to cause Christmas cheer.

At home again, spend part of the day sleeping, it is dark and night before knowing it

And this blog got forgotten, thus the paltry replacement

four hour walk

 The collector of cameras and his wife were out walking in the park by the castle, both studying the ground in order to react in time to icy patches. Chat with hhe im for a while, talk about the problems of rangefinder cameras and their inaccuracies and their sensitivity. They have to go on, they always have things to do. They are a busy couple.

The paths are muddy and slippery today. Cyclists have mired the puddles with the wheels of their vehicles, every wet patch has turned to an area of brown mud.

Take the path up the hill to the radio mast, but do take a wrong turning finally, ending up in a field between to of the properties left in the nature reserve. The weather gets darker, and the eyes start to go into an unfocused state, it is strange. There is nowhere in this park to obtain a drink of water, it would be sensible to bring a full bottle along next time.

Take the short cut down to Auloh, following the informal track leading out of the nature reserve. Pass the local school and find the entrance to the path along the reservoir. There is a canal beside the reservoir, and the footbridges crossing this canal are not easy to find. When found, walk on up the river passing flocks of wild water birds on the lakes, these comprising of geese, ducks swans and coots. Each type of bird more or less holding together. Crows watch from the shore.

Later, just inside Landshut, a red ball flies over a high wire fence, bounces once on the path, and then disappears down the river embankment. Arriving at the spot, see that there are three young girls peering out through the fence with worried expressions. Carefully climb down the embankment and collect the ball from where it has been caught in a bush. Bring it to the gate of the school compound and return it to the girls. They give their thanks, but warily keep their distance.

Much like everybody does.

At the restaurant with the coffee enjoy the coffee brought by the friendly waitress. Read the distance covered on the 'phone, and see that it was almost eighteen kilometres.

The path taken today was longer. Todays walk was four and a half hours long

thirteen kilometres

 A walk over the Moniberg, past the old house on the top of the hill. This is a small farmers house, quite ruinous after all these years. The rent was cheap, this was all right.

This was a snap decision, just to make the walk longer, so as not to spend so much time hanging around the house in the town, This needs to be tidied, but it is so much work alone. The feeling is that it is alone, anyhow. Perhaps there is such a thing as loneliness in company.

The small track leads on after the children's campsite, the trees with the frozen fruit rotten on their branches. Keep up a steady pace, there is a certain amount of pain in the legs, especially after the two steep climbs in the first part of the walk. Pause to take a picture of an empty field and the horizon, the horizon with bare trees and a church. The field has already been smoothed after ploughing, it is waiting for crops for next year.

Mountain bikers have destroyed the paths with their knobbly tyres. They have kneaded the soft ground into a brown pulp, most unpleasant to walk over. After crossing the Schweinebach, climb up again towards the nature reserve. Why that streham is called the "Pig's stream" is quite unclear. The beech and maple trees in the woods are all bare, the ground is golden brown with their leaves. Keep to the principal path today, there is really no wish to go exploring.

Eventually, the path leads downward again, and comes out at the university of Landshut.

Take the path to the river, the one behind the Landshut heating plant, and walk up the river to the café. These are the last four kilometres, and though it is late, there is still a cup of coffee available from the friendly waitress.

status quo

 The dark outside makes it hard to get up, and yet all the training of the last thirty years lets the body rise and go through the motions of getting up to go to work.

Work that is not there any more, automatic routines that are no longer there. There are many other things to do, but:

The wife is asleep, the son is asleep, the cat wants food. Feed the cat, there are no other things worth doing. Set up the coffee maker and make a cup of coffee. Look at the news on the computer, look at the clever remarks underneath the pictures.

Hear the buzzing sound in the head, a constant companion, a white noise, a hiss that will not go away. There is nothing pleasant at the moment at all, now that the domestic status quo is in power again. Now all the plans made yesterday are nothing, let them come to naught and lie down on the sofa, a place silent but for the ticking of the clock in the room.

It is possible to fall asleep again here, a non-constructive reaction to the chaotic surroundings.

too bad

Do the walk in the morning, all is sodden and icy. It is a sum total of nine kilometres  past what are now bare trees. They are all dormant, waiting for spring. The piano of the oxen is clear in it's function now. Covered in slippery slush as it is, no hoofed animal would make it safely up there other than a mountain goat. The ridges of brick every thirty centimetres would stop any bovine slippage.

It is grey cold and foggy, and the way is slippery. On the second part of the walk, up the Carossahöhe, the slushy snow shows only one other pair of human footprints. There are also those of a dog.                                                                                                                                                                                                              

The café is the high point of the day, the coffee is good.

At home, depression really sets in, and there are the beginnings of a head cold now.

This is all too bad.

start

The third day back from the holiday, and life is back as bad as it was before. It is hard to endure the dirt at home, the mess, the piles of clothing everywhere. The clothing that came back from the holiday has been washed and dried and is back in the wardrobe. The clothing of the son and the wife is on it's seemingly eternal rounds between resting in the washing machine or wet in the basket or back from the washing line in a pile in some basket waiting for it's tidying. The living room is a mass of papers and pieces of electronic devices that are being repaired.

Resolve to start with the kitchen, after having walked around town and had a cup of coffee. On the way back there is a woman begging under the arcades. She says that she is in her seventh month, and so ask her if she is there of her own will. It is known that there are organised beggar gangs in town, they are from poorer EU countries and are placed all over the town and are collected daily and brought to some place to spend the night. The money that they take in is not left to them, they only get a small percentage. Give her some money, for it is a horrible job and there is no knowing what situation she is in.

Return home and spend the rest of the day cleaning the kitchen.

This is a start, anyway.

routine

There is one thing to pack, a back for a camera. It was sold on Ebay during the Irish holiday. It was not worth much money, but why not sell it to somebody who wants it rather than throwing it away to save bother.

Take it back downstairs, print out an address label with prepaid postage and take the package to the post. The woman behind the counter whips out a ruler and checks that the package does not exceed the maximum height. Then she prints out a receipt and she says: "have a nice day" in German.

Walk around the town, it is cold and miserable weather. 

Go into the cafe, the charming Italian waitress brings a cup of coffee. We make small talk, she talks of Holland , realise that she has mistaken the pronunciation.

Then when the coffee is finished, go home.

Unpack the suitcase, put the clothes into the wash. Thirty degrees should be plenty, they are not really dirty, and the detergent works at that temperature too. 

Fill out a repair form and pack the camera that was defective in Ireland, and include the lens that it was used with. At the very least, the people in Wetzlar will clean it up. And it is the camera that is at fault, not the operator.

By the time that is done, the washing machine has finished. Put the clothes into the dryer, and the remainder of the used clothes into the machine. Start both machine and dryer, and then go out to the post office with the next package.

She whips out her ruler again, even though it is visibly the same size of package. There is nothing like a routine.

return, first of December

 Today is the first of December, today is the day to return. The alarm sounds, it is four in the morning. Jump out of bed and put on the clothing prepared the night before. Wheel the suitcase into the hallway, then take it downstairs.

Meanwhile, the brother has risen from bed and has cleared away yesterdays dead mice and is making coffee. There is a short conversation, the coffee is drunk, then it is time to go. The way to the motorway is bare of traffic, the motorway itself has speeding professionals driving their vehicles to wherever they are bound, avoiding the traffic jams that will occur later on in the day.

The airport is quiet, there are few people under way, now in the time between the winter holidays and Christmas. People with masks and small baggage, all being searched and their baggage scanned.

The aircraft is not even one-quarter full, the covid pandemic is the most likely culprit.

There is time for sleep during the short, two and a half hour flight.

ten dead mice on the last day of November

 And all the joints between the bones are sore, the muscles between the legs too. The business man had forged ahead over the mountains yesterday, and was far ahead by the time darkness had fallen and the two brothers were back beside the lower lake again. The day was over when they returned to the house and had to go home. It was a long drive over the hilly foggy bogs.

And today is the last day in Ireland. It is time to visit an old schoolfriend, she has gone into local politics and is working there now. It is strange and rather nice to meet somebody after fifty years, that is half a century.

Talk in a public house in Rathfarnham for an hour, then the meeting with the councilwoman is over.

Walk back home, balance the four kilometres distance of the outward journey.

And at home, meet the brother just back from his work. He is tired too, after setting two mousetraps in the kitchen cupboard he  goes to bed to sleep. Sleep on a chair before the fire, hear the sound of the mousetraps. Go to the cupboard, there are two mice, one in each trap. Remove the small grey bodies and leave them on an old wrapper, put new bait into the traps and replace them.

Later that evening, the brothers flat cleaned and tidied, the bags packed and before the night's sleep the traps have clicked ten times.