calls

 It is not just unhappiness that is causing this sadness, for there is no reason to be unhappy, not really. There is no financial reason despite there not being a surfeit of money available and there is no legal insecurity. There are a few friends, and people seem to be friendly everywhere. It is just the blackness of being unable to express personal desire,  a bleak horizon where the needs of others seem to land before personal needs. To satisfy a personal desire it has become necessary to keep such satisfaction secret and the happiness derived from the action is really limited. This is not as simple as it sounds, for even this expression of need is essentially selfish. The most simple apparent method for dealing with the problem, a hedonistic flurry of self-indulgence, would be heartbreaking.

There is a pigeon outside, cooing. It sounds like "ooh hoo woo" and sometimes it breakes into whistling overtones. There is an answering call in the distance, It seems to be some kind of long-range conversation. First one calls and then the other calls. They do not interrupt each other.

And now the pigeons seem to have stopped calling.

The neighbours are awakening, there is the sound of crockery, and the building workers have started to make noises with their tools. They have not started to converse yet. That is one of the pleasant things about the early morning, people just do not seem to shout at each other so much.

Now they have started to use a circular saw.

Resolve to go back downstairs, to take a shower and find day clothing in the room. Life must simply go on, it may be possible to make a doctors appointment later after the practice has opened.

Liberal

Finish sleeping on the couch upstairs after sleep became difficult in the bedroom. The son started to make tea in the kitchen next door, then the cat started to make her noises, and there was just no point anymore.

So, take the pills early, the two pills for the blood pressure that work too well and the one for the blood iron which shows little evidence of working at all. Then go upstairs and look at the news on the computer, there is no good news available.

So lie down on the upstairs couch, where it is still possible to sleep in peace. And when the need for sleep has given way to the discomfort of the couch, get up again.

Read the news, there is more news now. Erdogan has given up his stupid bazaar tactics and Lindner has been told that increasing the demand when the supply of oil is limited raised the price.

Lindner is the German finance minister. He is a financial liberal, and any decision he makes seems to always benefit those that are well off already.

notes on a bad beginning

 Wake up early, as every day. The cat is alerted and starts to wander about begging for food. At the sight of the mess in the kitchen ignore the cat completely. The wife has stacked her shoppin stuff around the place, and the son had started to cook something in the middle of it. The whole scene is one of extreme complexity, with dirty dishes and cutlery balanced on table edges accompanying shopping bags filled with bargain bags of crisps. It is an undisciplined scenario with piles of special offers everywhere. accompanied by cutlery and crockery that has not made the two metre journey into the dishwasher.

Go back to bed, and try to force more sleep, this disaster is not worth thinking about, and being a saint and just clearing up that filthy mess would lead to the complete end of any self-respect. There is the urge to throw things on the floor, to engage in wanton destruction out of rage. Tidy away the rage, try to ignore the tinnitus, just go back to bed and do what everyone els is doing, including the cat as somebody.

It is half past eight and bright, get up again. Like a horse with blinkers on navigate the complexity of the kitchen and make a sort of small breakfast. Eat it at the table in the overheated still dusty air of the living room.

The coffee is a delight.

Then clear the cup and the plate away, find shoes and go upstairs to the attic refuge.

Read the news, read about America's return to simple minded barbarity, read about Russia's love of serfdom and wonder at the Chinese drive for power.

And then write these daily notes, in the hope that they will continue tomorrow.

no motivation to do anything

 Breakfast is done, the eyes are now focussing better. The hiss is still there in the right-hand part of the head, it is just like the doctor said. It may never go away, completely. There is no way to establish the exact cause now. This is something that will just have to be ignored.

The cat is soliciting for attention, hold out the hand and she rubs her head against it. Cats do that, either to show affection or to indicate that you are their own human. Maybe there is some other reason too, but it escapes simple human reasoning. Now the cat is in the open window frame, looking out at the commencing traffic in the street.

It is Monday, and there are things to be done, and really no wish at all to do any of them.

It would be nice to just return to sleep. Read the mail, the personal mails are just condescending and the others are trying to sell something or other.

clocks that die and then return to life

 In the room at the top of the house without an idea of what to write about, and nothing else to be distracted by. Just like a person carrying a new camera through the streets searching for things to act as subjects for pictures. The room at the top of the house is tidy, it is the way much of the rest of the house could be.

It is a refuge. It is something to write about, even though it is nothing special. Even the cat retires up here , to jump on the old knees before the glass table taken from the place of work. She did that yesterday, she just sat about and purred. That was one way to spread an aura of peace and quiet.

The room at the top of the house is bright, and light. It is hot in the summer and cold in the winter, the project to equip it with a heating system failed as there is a shortage of building workers who will do that kind of work. Perhaps next year, perhaps it will never happen. The German Präzisionspendeluhr clock on the wall reminds of the French clock in the sitting room, started and adjusted yesterday and still running today. It has come to life again.

Breakfast coffee and clock adjustment

 That French clock in the sitting room that has not worked for a long time now. A clock sold in Le Havre, an antique Leon Hatot thing, it has been hanging there.

Open the case and give the pendulum a nudge. It swings, and then it stops swinging rather abruptly. Try it again, and the swinging pendulum shows the same behaviour, slowing to a standstill with unnatural speed. Normally it takes some time for a pendulum to slow, this one acts as if there is something retarding it. Return to the breakfast coffee and wonder about that.

The only thing that could affect a magnetic pendulum like that would be an electrical current on the electromagnet. And then only if it is timed exactly wrong, a positiv impulse given where a negative one would be required. So instead of applying force to the pendulum to keep it moving it does exactly the opposite.

Get up and take the clock down from the wall, dislodging a layer of dust from the top of the case in the process. Take out the battery, and put it back in the other way round. Remove the remaining dust from the case and hang the clock up again. Give the pendulum a nudge, and see that it now behaves more like a normal pendulum, still slowing, but not stopping abruptly. Consider this for a few minutes, and then look at the pendulum from the side through the glass sides of the casing, and see that the electromagnetic coil on the pendulum is not centred on the fixed bar magnet. The clock is hanging with a rearward inclination. There are small screws to adjust this, but it is still off centre. Move the top of the clock away from the wall, sliding along the hook to the limit. Now the two magnets are more or less centred.

Give the pendulum a nudge, and now it goes on for a long time.

Getting up early and making a cup of coffee and drinking it and stupidly looking at a clock and wondering why it does not work has a positive effect after all.

still air

The warm still air over the town obviates the necessity for bedclothes, the lack of rain has kept the mosquitos at bay. The sound of  pigeons comes in through the open window, followed by the booming of the big church bells from Saint Martins. Those bells are always early now, the clatter from all the remaining bells in the town follows.

It is six in the morning, the old Telefonbau und Normalzeit clock on the wall agrees with the bells. This is a mechanical clock with a pendulum, the weight is pulled up every few minutes by a magnet actuated by an electric impulse. Unlike the French clocks, where the magnet drives the pendulum directly. The French clocks are more elegant, and will run for years from a single battery. The German Präzisionspendeluhr requires more power for its winding mechanism, and relies on traditional techniques to keep the pendulum swaying.

Two of the seven chairs are now repaired. Understanding how the rattan weave worked took some time and some wasted material. There are techniques involved which cannot be learned from the reading of theory, they are practical in nature and rely on a feeling for the material. Still, the results are improving as time goes on.

The pictures will arrive by post today, there is some excitement now as regards their quality. The laboratory is extraordinarily cheap, there must be disadvantages somewhere. Still, it is good to be able to get prints of the pictures at a reasonable price.

Now it is a quarter pas six in the morning, doesn't time just fly away.

led head

The lead head, not a head that is being directed, but a head filled with the metal. It is buzzing away to itself, forcing the eyes to shut, the neck to creak. The lump of brain is just seemingly overweight. The clock on the wall says that it is ten to seven, things outside are still quiet. The builders at the neighbours house have not started their work yet.

Yesterdays visit to Landau did not work out, all was as expected. There was no miraculous relief from the tinnitus upon climbing up to the museum, the whole thing was just a fluke. That is a relief, any other result would have opened doors to esoteric ways of thinking. Such ways of thought are generally just not true. 

The bells ring for seven, the noise of workmen going about their business will start shortly. For now there are just the cries from the birds of prey to be heard as they go about their business circling the church tower of Saint Martin's church.

The head is still filled with lead, and the counterweights on the eyelids do not work. A doll with straw in its head would feel more.

postcard

 Details of breakfast today are probably much the same as yesterday, except for the fact that the living room table is no longer available. It has turned into a repository for clothing as part of the wife's business. Take the breakfast to the upstairs room and enjoy it there.

It is strange how things can move so quickly nowadays, and yet not seem to be any faster than they used to be. A small postcard of thanks for a few remitted prints arrived two days later, and that was enough to satisfy everybody. The postcard will remain for some time, and then fade. An email would exist in virtual space for as long as data remains in storage.

The hot days have gone, the weather has turned cool and warm. Perhaps today is the day to take the old amplifier to the repair shop in Landau, and to check on the miraculous place at the top of the hill. It will be frightening if the tinnitus ceases to annoy again, as soon as the space before the museum is reached. It has functioned twice now, a third time would demand further investigation. 

The family is still asleep, the cat has turned down the offered food. Perhaps because it is not hungry, maybe for some other reason. There are noises of building workers and interior decorators from the surrounding buildings.

toothbrush

Wake up at home, know the bed, and see that it is still dark. It is too early to get up, now, it is only four in the morning. This is the punishment for having gone to bed so early last night.

Make a cup of coffee anyway, and take the pills as per the doctors orders. This is a start to the day, there is no news to be read yet, but what of it? The news will be no better today than it was yesterday. The Ukraine being drowned in the blood of conscripted Russians. America unable to take a distant view of guns. And the French dismembering their own country at the election urns.

Take the cup of coffee upstairs and start to work on the photographs, so that they will be ready as promised.

And the head starts to drift as the dizziness from the low blood pressure starts. Hopefully it is only low blood pressure, and nothing else. That would be a nuisance. There is nothing else that it could be, really.

The pictures take longer than planned, go out for a short walk and buy an electric toothbrush to replace the one forgotten in Schweinfurt.

hotel

Today there are four stars instead of three stories, a silly hotel to finish last nights train journey, a journey with broken and therefore delayed trains, the trains all full of people with their bags and bicycles. The hotel was just an emergency measure, the hotel being the last one open in Schweinfurt. The pricey four stars were not a matter of choice. A sterile room with the rushing sound of air conditioning was not a matter of choice, just the impossibility of sleeping on the street and the lateness of the hour forced this.

The room is no more than a very comfortable cell, with a bed, and a bathroom behind a sliding glass door, and a strange plastic laminate system of cupboards.

To think that living here permanently would cost more than twice the income for a month!

tiny three story half timbered

 The birds sing loud and clear outside the open window, it is barely light and they are a chorus of a thousand different voices and a multitude of songs. What a way to wake up, struggle into the clothes and descent the three flights of stairs in the tiny old half-timbered house.The toilet is in the back of the building, ground floor.

Afterwards, sit down  on the comfortable park seats outside. They are wood and steel, but still, they are comfortable.

Listen to the bird song, not understanding anything, but enjoying that cacophony of calls and whistles, some seem to chant, some just manage an irregular staccato burst of sound. There are so many voices, it is like a crowd of opera singers doing their warm-up exercises independenttly of one another.

Then climb up to the third story of the small house, there is a wire for an aerial hanging across the stairs and leading to the Polish worker's room, he likes to watch polish television at night.

Return to the room, and sleep for another hour, it is so pleasant just to rest and relax, to know that breakfast is being prepared by the master of the house and his wife. This is not a thing that should be, but it is pleasant to meet with such generosity. There is time to take a short shower in the basement bathroom, and then to take a walk in the garden and to have a chat with the brother who is taking pictures of the plants that have developed so well here.

Breakfast is a delight, with eggs and bacon, bread and cheese. There is good coffee to drink.

And when all is done, accompany the brother on his journey to Frankfurt,  time to admire the landscape and to chat with the brother about things that have hitherto remained unsaid.

And at Frankfurt airport, say goodbye, and try to take a train to Nuremberg.

The trains are all broken and slow, it takes two hours to lose sight of the banker's towers in Frankfurt.

Early train

 The special alarm set for this morning sounds its seaside melody, ending the sound sleep found after a restless night. Today is the day to take the train journey to Schonungen, to visit the brother. He is working there,  and it is possible to pay him a visit.

Walk to the railway station at half past five, there is plenty of time to reach the train from Munich to Nuremberg. The town is still very quiet. 

Sitting in the deserted railway station watch a few trains come in and leave again. There is an announcement that a train has been delayed for fifty-five minutes. Later on there is the announcement that the train has been cancelled entirely. There are a few more people on the platform now. Look at the app on the telephone, the train is delayed by a few minutes. 

The train to Nuremberg is empty.

By the time it reaches Nuremberg it is full, full of tourists that do not normally use the railway for transport. But since the national offer for cheap tickets, the trains are full. It is worth thinking about that this offer should be continued, there is less traffic on the road, and the towns are not as congested with cars.

The small train from Nuremberg to Bamberg is quite full, again there are people on board who would not normally be using the train service. The corridor is filled with standing children, who leave the train again at Erlangen. Feel lucky to have found a seat, opposite to a wild-haired man who is studying things on his telepone. The telephone is attached by a green cord to one of the electrical sockets fixed under the baggage rail of the carriage.

Then he stops fingering the device and proceeds to watch a film. Shortly before Forchheim he reaches into his bag, takes out a piece of cake and commences to eat it.

rising heat

 Temperatures are climbing, midday today will be beyond the comfort zone entirely. This is an unqualified prediction, just an assumption. This prediction will probably come true. Things are not getting colder, just stocks and shares are sinking. And the water levels in the rivers are sinking too. The sounds from the street are noisy today, people are up earlier, there is much traffic noise.

These sounds are all behind the constant hiss of tinnitus, think of the visit to the top of the hill in Landau and the banishment of this constant sound. A return there will banish the revolting hiss maybe, but if it does then there will be no way to really talk about this, it will all be deemed a psychological effect. In reality, it may well be so, but the effect is pleasant enough. How many other similar places must there be in the world? How are they to be found? The world is too large a place for this to be a miracle bound to one location.

The cat is sleeping on the bed at the wife's feet. The terror of being locked out all night has possibly stuck in feline memory, and maybe it will affect her desire to leave the property, to sneak out as people open the door to return to their home.

There are now noises that the struggle in the Ukraine will be augmented by a similar struggle in Estonia. The dreams of empire will be replaced by the reality of corpses mutilated whilst they were people and cities turned to desolate rubble.

Hiss

 Loud and insistent, there is the sound of a cat calling coming in through the opened window, an insistent repetitive call, a well defined typical cat's call.

Look out of the window down into the alley, there is the cat. Call her name, she looks up, and now she calls more loudly, more insistent, desperately. She must have been locked out all night, a terrifying experience for a house cat. Hurry downstairs, the cat now almost howling in panic, unable to see the familiar head any more. She is probably frightened now, that she will yet again be left alone in the strange outside world. Open the door, and she rushes in, the striped orange tail vertical and bushy in a display of fear and aggression. She rushes the whole length of the corridor, maybe frightened, scared by the thought of  being caught and thrown out again, who knows? What thoughts would a cat have at being denied its loved creature comforts for a whole night?

Call her by name, the tail furls, and she comes to have her head patted, everything is fine again.

Yesterday there was the chance meeting with a collector of African art. A knock on the door to ask permission for the taking of photographs of details of a building opened a door to a collection of African ceremonial masks, not old, just masterful. They are all owned by a retiring man, shy and alone. He lives in his house, in a situation of comparative squalor, with hundreds of masks and sculptures.

Yesterday was a day of curious happenings. Walking down the hill from an antique shop in Landau there is a silence. The hiss in the ears has gone. As it did a week ago, in the same place, a place before a museum and an evening beer garden. Walk away from the place and the tinnitus returns, quietly hissing. Try entering a nearby church, there is hissing. Walk around the church, back to the square, and silence returns. Walk away in another direction, the hissing in the ear is louder again. The effect is too local to be an atmospheric or a pressure change, magnetic or electrical forces simply do not make sense. Two weeks ago, the same thing happened in the same place, a special brand of bio-rated beer in the beer garden was seen as the cause. Last Sunday, a different beer garden and the same bio-rated brand of beer caused mild inebriation, but no change to the hiss in the ear.

This is ridiculous, this is madness and delusion. Magical places that alleviate tinnitus do not exist. Next week, there will be another test, a return to the place in Landau, using the car to go up the hill. Just to make sure that it was not the exertion of climbing the hill that caused the desirable effect.  It is curious, it would be easy to believe had something been taken to cause the effect, something inhaled, something heard. But it is impossible to believe that being in a particular place will stop that hissing sound which is otherwise a constant companion. 

why is it impossible?

 Write a return mail to the son, who kindly answered today, saying that there was no need to worry about him. His egocentric view of things seems to confuse concern with happiness to hear from him. It will become necessary to tell him that it is simply nice to hear from him, the times for care and control are past.

The quiet and peace of the early morning are all around, the dust settling undisturbed under the furniture causing the rich yellow floorboards to pale to an unhealthy grey. The untidiness of the room is incredible, nothing is returned to its place, and there is so much diverse junk on the ground that wiping the floor has become an impossibility.

Never mind, the eggs on toast and the cup of coffee in the morning will go a long way to saving the day. The time that it will take to clean things up will be time wasted. It is time to clear away the breakfast things and to put on day clothes. Instead, just make another cup of coffee, and think about the pains in the left hand side of the chest, a strained muscle in the shoulder.

Would a train journey make sense today? It would be a chance to get away, and then to have to return to the scenery of destruction and disorder. Why is it impossible to just get up and leave now?

hot

The late evening yesterda is causing disorder today. The body has not had enough sleep and still the mind forces it to waken and to start functioning. The – meanwhile usual – breakfast does not really help at all, and the bright sunlight outside is more threatening than anything else. The weather forecast yesterday was frightening, it predicted heatwaves over large parts of Europe which will be warmer than any that have ever been recorded.

The eyelids are falling to a shut position as the fingers wander blind over the keyboard, only opening at the end of every sentence to check the content.

A change of a major kind will be needed, things cannot just proceed like this.

The son is still under way on his camping trip, there is a slight worry, but really he is old enough to be well able to take care of himself.

And the heavy old head is collapsing, it will be necessary to lie down again.

two eggs

 A single breakfast of  two eggs on toast. The eggs are poached, the shells cracked open and the white and the yolk left to the boiling water. There is salt and vinegar in the water. The result tastes good, but is eaten quickly. This is not as dry and bitty as a continental breakfast and not a calorie -rich carnivorous festivity like the traditional Irish breakfast. The only thing left to worry about is the cholesterol in the eggs. The answer to that worry is that it is probably unhealthy to worry about everything that it might be possible to do wrong.

There will have to be an answer to the mess in the house. This business of just not caring will have to end, and it will have to end soon.

Life cannot go on like this.

But the solitary breakfast is a pleasant highlight to the morning.

camping

 Sunday church bells are being rung, the sound echos up and down the street. An image of a slightly demented monk hauling the end of a long rope in the church spire comes to mind. It is, however, not done that way any more. It is now done by some electrically actuated system of mechanical ringers. The idea of the monk is more picturesque.

Meanwhile the six o'clock bells have stopped their noise.

The son is putting his bags together for a weeks camping trip. He is taking a surprising amount of equipment with him, even including a portable computer. Now that he has finished his school well he is taking a break.

He just has to start early. Now there are the single rings outside indicating that it is now a quarter past six.

It is Sunday, breakfast is made, and he has to leave soon. 

tired

What is to be done?

This is a silent Saturday morning, there is no noise from the alley outside the window, it is too early for that. There is no news on the computer either, it is too earl for that too, apparently.

The second cup of coffee has been drunk, perhaps it is now time to make a second pot,

The mess everywhere is heartbreaking, the first thing to do is to clean up the kitchen.

The clock is alternately  ticking with a "tick tock"  sound. The tock is lower pitched than the tick sound, and at every thirty second's interval there is a beat as the time signal is made for the missing subordinate clock.  

Try to do things to prevent the day slipping away into a depressing fight against solitude. Tiredness is beginning to numb the mind again, leaving it incapable of thinking of other things,

Only tiredness.

noise allowed after seven

 Punctually at seven the building workers in the street start their heavy machinery. This is Germany, and that is the law, or maybe just the bye-law. They are doing things to the drains, or to the various other conduits buried under the street. They will stop at nine, that is the time for their morning bread-time (brotzeit) break.

Breakfast is done, that time of solitary enjoyment in the morning. The dirty dishes in the kitchen have all been moved into the dishwasher. That machine will be started later, let the family sleep. There is no need incur the families anger at having their beauty sleep disturbed. Even the cat is too lazy to get up. Today is a plain grey day, brightening steadily now.

The camera was prepared for action yesterday, there is a mosaic done by a local artist to be photographed today. It is not clear what exactly is required, but there is no reason not to do it, and the company of the artist is pleasant. That alone is a good reason, even if the only other reason is that there will not be a bill for the pictures. 

That is why it is now time to shower and shave and put on the day clothes. The time for the work is nine in the morning, and it is not far away. So there is plenty of time to get things ready, it is good to have some work outside of personal projects - for the first time in almost one year.

caning

 Lie down on the couch in the sitting room after breakfast. Two eggs, two slices of toast some butter and two cups of coffee made in a Bialetti espresso machine. The aluminium espresso machines are a curious invention, but they work well. A great piece of Italian industrial design.

Wake up and it is seven twenty two , and everybody seems asleep. There is no particular aim for today, just hear the rubbish truck  collecting the yellow plastic bags. All the packaging waste is gone, all those plastic containers and foil wrappings and empty cat food tins.

The sound in the right ear is there today, a steady hiss of white noise encompassing many frequencies. It is like an old fashioned radio reciever stuck between stations. It was nice when it was gone for a while after the consumption of one beer in Landau last week. Drinking beer is no option as a cure.

There are no real plans for this day, a day both grey and warm. There is no sense in hanging around, but what else is there to do?

Caning chairs passes the time, the repetitive actions leading to a rattan pattern on the frame of the old chair. The results are not those that an expert would produce, but they will do for the work of an amateur. Perhaps this should be continued later.

purpose

There are three bells, and that means that it is three quarters of the full hour. And the cat is scratching something, probably furniture. There is a bird outside, singing in the dark. The wife is snoring loudly.

A hissing noise seemingly located in the back of the personal skull, to the right is complemented by a pain in the left temple of the same skull. Listen to all the other sounds, clocks ticking and things creaking. It is too early to get up, what for? Think of all the errors made in the past, and think that there is no point even considering them. They are past and done. But they will not go away. It is the curse that memory leaves us with, that missed opportunities and wrong decisions remain as ghosts of events that nobody else cares about. Why a conscience as soon as consciousness starts the morning ritual?

There are four tinkly bells sounding in the distance. That is the signal for the full hour, followed by four bells in a slightly lower tone, it is five o'clock. Get out of bed, avoid the barely visible obstacles on the floor and go into the kitchen, followed by the cat. The cat enthusiastically rubs her head against the human legs, she considers that this is all because of her and that this is snack time. Give her a few bits of food.

Make a mess of breakfast by putting the eggs into the water before it has boiled. It is impossible to time them properly now, as a result they are overdone and hard. The toast is not burnt. 

Eat breakfast and let the two bells for the half hour sound. It is half past four in the morning now. There are more birds singing outside, and it is getting lighter. With the writing of these notes the vaguely suicidal thoughts of the early morning dissipate. And that is all that this is really good for

scraps

 The sound of rain on the leaves outside the window

The feeling of being trapped

The sounds the cat makes as it demands food

The wish to be elsewhere without knowing why

Later the silence in the living room

The pleasure of making breakfast

The second cup of coffee

There is plenty to do and no concept of how to do it or where to start

No point even in trying to impart a rhythm to these words

Ideally they would be written on a scrap of paper and dropped into the street

Just like that

 The hot day yesterday ended with a sudden storm which toppled trees over the railway line between Landau and Dingolfing. This meant that train services were interrupted, and that at least one train full of passengers was stuck in Landau. 

The people in the train had to wait. A family of Ukrainian refugees, a large group of people in Bavarian traditional dress with leather trousers and all, and a number of perfectly normal passengers. Speak to a young woman who works for the railway in the goods department, she says that she knew nothing, and was just travelling home to visit her boyfriend in Munich. There was an Indian gentleman on his way to Stuttgart, and many irritated people venting their fury on anyone who looked as if they might listen. The Turkish family running the snack bar in the railway station made a fortune selling overpriced snacks, and closed their shop when they ran out of stock, leaving the people waiting for busses to stand in the rain. It was dark, but it was warm.

Finally, a stranger approached and offered a lift to Landshut.

Just like that.

horns

 Sunday morning and the only sound is the horns of the emergency vehicles as a sign that somebody's day has started off badly. The horns blare on for a long time, there is the impression that some of the drivers like the sound of their horns, as if making a noise and light show enhances their importance.

Then the sound of the horns quietens into the distance and the birdsong is back again.

It is late today, the wife has returned from her visit to her parent's house, the cat is greedy and the tinnitus is hissing loudly on the right. The tinnitus is probably there all the time, it is just that at some times it is not to be ignored.

It is eight thirty in the morning and the tinnitus has been joined by a high whistle in the left temple.

It is a lovely day and it is starting off badly.

holiday

 Alone in the house today, one alone in a space normally lived in by three. It is Saturday, the first day of the Whitsun weekend, it is half past six, and there is silence in the town. It is not as silent as it will be on Sunday, but it is very quiet. The cat is visibly puzzled by the unusual lack of people in the flat, but after being fed she does not seem to be worried by it at all.

The solitary quiet is a delight.

Eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast, all is ready to go, sit at the table like on every day and realise that there is hardly any news on the computer. The railway accident in Garmish-Partenkirchen vanishes into the holiday silence, even though it was a deadly accident.

Today is a day for cleaning up the tools, for clearing the mess in the ground floor workshop. Today will be a quiet day with as little action as possible, the meaning of family holiday has changed from being a holiday with the family to its being a holiday from the family.

divine intervention

 The son is rushing around the flat in high excitement. He has planned to go to a meeting in Thuringia, a seminar on youth management. He has set every one of his various alarm clocks , and they are all producing sounds at regular intervals. The only course of action is to sit at the table and watch him almost vanish in a blur of activity as he gathers his various items, packs his bags, sorts his books, and repairs a pair of completely destroyed headphones with black packing tape. He appears capable of simultaneous multiple activities in his haste.

Yesterdays walk was pleasant, it was possible to go along the river farther downstream towards the Danube using the train and those cheap tickets on offer by the railway people. The river banks are wilder and wider and not so well kept.  The way onward, from Mamming to Ganacker is less pleasant, starting as paths between fields with no shade, it ends as a walk along a tarred straight strip beside a trunk road.

The final stretch, from Ganacker to Landau follows a trunk road with no footpath. It is necessary to step out of the way of the approaching cars, that have won all rights of way over the humble pedestrian.

The church at Ganacker has the remains of a metal chain wound around it, a gift from a salt merchant in thanks for having been released from the grip of the marshes by a seemingly divine intervention. This chain used to go around the church three times, but two thirds of it were confiscated during the second world war to counteract the metal shortage during those times. Nobody was able to explain why a metal chain would be a suitable expression of gratitude.

 

confluence

 The warmth and the light of summer is a thing of great beauty, when compared with the icy darkness of winter. Even the sound of rain falling on leaves as heard  through the open window is a pleasant reassuring sound.

The dutiful alarm sounds at five minutes past six, just as the carefully made breakfast is finished. Let it play its melody until the previous paragraph is done, then switch it off. And now it is hard to know what to write about. 

The two batteries for the keyboard have been recharged, if the green light on the charging appliance is to be believed. This dusty machine is on a shelf beside the typewriter that is purely there for decoration. There is an old sock on the floor beside it, left over from the son's younger days, it should have been thrown out long ago. Use it to wipe the dust from the charger, before replacing the charger in the shelf. Throw the sock into the nearest waste bin. Then return to the table and the computer and continue writing, the problem of not really knowing what to write about unsolved.

The thought is to take a train journey to Dingolfing, and to walk from there to admire the countryside seen the day before yesterday in more detail. These are the hills and the valleys at the confluence of the Isar and the Danube rivers.

Things to do

 The first day of this month is a Wednesday, a thing realised last night whilst attempting to buy a  railway ticket. There is an offer for a reduced railway ticket, and yesterday it was not in force yet. This was just too bad. But it did not matter anyway. The walk from Landshut to Dingolfing was pleasant, then tiring, and finally the legs hurt. 

The reservoir at Dingolfing has large marshy areas at its upstream end, these are a haven for ducks. There are  mallard families everywhere, always one female mallard surrounded by her chicks. The male mallards are hanging about in small groups in the marshes. In the evening light it is all very pretty, even though the mashes are a bit smelly. The dike around the reservoir leads almost to the centre of the town, a town that appears to be nothing but a mass of large  consumer temples selling kitchen appliances and building supplies, and discount food  stores. All of these business have large parking lots attached.

This morning the cat is active, she is begging. The legs still hurt a bit from yesterday, but this will go away in time. There are things to do today, forms to fill and bills to pay. And finally, there are pictures of trains to be finished and put online.

There are things to do every day, not just enjoying the Bavarian countryside.