Ok.

 Sunday would be quiet, were it not for those church bells with their clamour, their calls for believers. There are fewer believers in the established religions, but that has not stopped people believing in other supernatural things. The cat is attentive this morning, but there is no reason to feed her yet. The family will be awake later, wonder if they will be in a position to clear up the mess in the kitchen. There will probably be no such attempt, it will be another job for later on in the day.

The news is sparse and bad, and the weather has become pleasantly cooler. Wonder at the collector of African sculpture, and wonder whether or not the pictures of these artefacts will prove so interesting or not. It is a job worth doing, even if that mans untidiness is hard to bear.

The cries of the young child in the neighbourhood are loud now, it is repeatedly calling for it's mother, in an increasingly exasperated tone of voice. Last night it was screaming abuse at its father. It is a little girl or a little boy, the voice is immature and sexless.

Then there is the sound of a dog barking, that is new. Perhaps one of the neighbours now is the proud owner of a dog. 

Fridays photographs have all been finished, they are online, and receive the usual praises.

Ok.

beehive

 Yesterday in Passau, Morath and Giacommetti, "Magnum" photography and swiss drawings. Two exhibitions of pictures that affected the way in which people see the world. Giacometti was a sculptor, but his drawings were what was principally shown in Passau. It was a very well made show.

Yesterday there was time to visit the collector of African art as well. He is a man lost in his eccentricity, he is having a hard time of it. Still, he has a vast collection of artifacts, so many that it becomes confusing to tell them apart, the eye becomes blinded from one splendour to the next.

The journey home was strange, the train was packed and yet the front carriage upstairs was empty. It was second class, it was not as if everyone was avoiding expensive fares. The bottom floor of the carriage was filled with Black people, all not really typical of the local population. There can only be guesses as to why the top floor was empty.

This morning it was a long sleep, the neighbour's cursing causes an awakening.

Wash the train journey down the drain with yesterdays dust.

The daily breakfast and the daily news. The news is sparse, there is less reporting on a Saturday. It is improbable that less happens.

Take the exhibition flyer with the Morath photo of the two bookkeepers downstairs and give it to the tenant bookkeeper. She is amused at the picture of the two young women at their desks, their hair done up in the fashionable beehive hairstyle of the times.

Friday early

 A bad nights sleep after yesterday's pleasant evening in the italian restauraunt. The mixtures of garlic and sphagehetti, a piece of pizza and two glasses of beer and an espresso make the night sleepless. This is just too bad. The son was trying to explain things on computer science. And it was good to see the subject enliven him.

The hens in the neighbours garden are making their noises, and the children are waking, soon joined by the gruff voices of parents and grandparents. It is very noisy between the houses, sound carries well.

Wail wail gruff gruff wail wail. And the hen croons in the background. It is good that there is no cock, a peacock would probably be the end of the world. It is a silent Friday morning early.

The son has left the lights on in the whole house. It will be necessary to talk to him about this.

Today is the day to visit a museum in Passau.

jealousy

 Awake and it is still dark,  it is just before dawn. Go downstairs to the bathroom, cringe at the mess of clothing deposited on every horizontal surface. There is no understanding for this any more, still there is an internal resistance to cause a screaming rage. Such behaviour would surely be counterproductive.

Go back upstairs, and lie down again, wait until the sleep has gone and the rage and panic with it. Gather the used clothing from yesterday, take that downstairs and put it into the washing basket, then take a short shower.

Make breakfast, trying to ignore the chaos left by the son from the night before. It is a thing that he may never learn now, but he cannot expect others to clear up his mess. Perhaps he does not care. Somehow, it will be necessary to find a way out of this lack of hope, this despair. There is coffee and eggs on toast, a standard sort of simple breakfast. Take it upstairs to the room that some may call the study, and eat it all up there, whilst reading the bleak news.

In the background the workers are starting to hammer and saw at the neighbours flat. There is jealousy at their ability to organise their lives, to make things work.

Jealousy will not help.

caught under an occluded sky

 The butterfly left the space on the window frame, and the covid test turned out negative. That means that the infection is over, and that is a big relief. The tinnitus is there much like before but that is less important.

It would have been too early for the butterfly to start hibernating anyway, Do butterflies hibernate?

The neighbours are pouring water from one bucket to another and cleaning things down in their yard between the houses. The wife and the son are still asleep.

The clock is ticking and the depressions will not let go, even though there is good weather and everything else is in order. The surroundings are bleak, the colour fades away for no apparent reason. Things have the appearance of being caught under an occluded sky.

butterfly on a grey day

 A butterfly flys inthrough the open window, and finding a dark spot in the corner of the frame settles there and folds its wings. It becomes nearly invisible. The weather outside is cooler, and the light is even and grey quite unlike the unfiltered glare from the sun of the last days. Hopefully, the butterfly does not intend to stay there, it is a bad place to remain in, the peace will be disrupted the next time that the windows are cleaned.

There is a crew of plasterers in the flat next door. They are calling to each other in a language that is neither German nor English nor French. It may be some eastern European language, they call to each other quietly unlike the booming shouts of the German owners of the flat. The Germans do not intend to be loud, they do not appear to be able to do anything else.

The kitchen this morning was a disaster, the only way is to pick through the mess left over from whatever went on there last night, and try to make breakfast without adding to the chaotic situation. A cup starts to slip from the place that it is balance on the pile of dirty dishes beside the sink. Watch as the left hand shoots out to catch it just as it begins to fall, and as conscious thought starts, replace the item on the pile of items. They are destined for the dishwasher sometime.

It is good to see that the reactions are still functioning despite increasing age.

bells

Quarantine is a sorry business after the first week, and the final test positive, that will mean that yet another week will be spent in boredom. Perhaps there will be fewer headaches, that would be nice. Listen to the elderly couple outside the window discuss watering their plants. They do not have very many of them, their garden is mainly flagstones.

Their activity is a reminder to water the plants on the balcony.

This chore has now been dealt with, the plants are green and healthy.

Now there are bells ringing everywhere, yet again. It is nine forty-eight. It is entirely unclear as to why this noise is necessary, and what purpose it serves. But the silence afterwards is pleasant, listen to the sound of the neighbours and the birds.

And the sun is shining, all very pleasant.

But now that perverse little bell at the end of the church starts to clang again. If a child did that with a dinner bell it would be punished.

snore

 There is the ticking of the wall clock in the upstairs room, in the darkness of the early morning today. The windows are open, for despite the earlier rain showers the night is still warm. The clock has a three-quarter second pendulum, and of course its ticking noise is in that frequency. But ever so slightly syncopated, there are other noises outside, the regular noises of the neighbours asleep, all with their windows open. The town is a dormitory, a land of snores, at four in the morning. Especially to the rear of all the houses, with all of the  mews and craftsman's workshops with their nooks and crannies the enhance sound's travel between the houses.

It has become hard to sleep in the morning, despite the peace that is Sunday.

pharmaceuticals

 Occasionally, there is not wish to write at all. There is an aversion to it. "What about?" is one of the questions asked. "Why?" is another one of those questions. They are all questions that seem to both hope and fear the answer, that on the one hand the writing of this blog is pointless and should therefore be stopped, and the other that in itself it has become a thing almost alive and to stop would be a wounding and never to start again would destroy it. There is no proof that it is of no value, even though the thought that it is of any value is likely wishful thinking

Two old glass darkroom filters in a package fall to the floor. There is a the crunching sound of glass breaking.

Fetch the dustpan, the brush. Carefully clear up the fragments and splinters on the floor, sweeping them into a dustpan. Wrap it all up in an old newspaper fetched from downstairs, and seal the package, and, again downstairs, put the whole thing into the waste bin for collection whenever the bin men turn up again.

Upstairs again, tidy the things into the shelves. Behaviour is strange today, yesterdays panicky struggle with what seems a cloud in the mind has turned into an interested tactile  probing of the things insided the cloud. It is like trying to divulge the contents of a parcel by squeezing the outside and rattling it.

It is sad about the filters, but it is no great loss, they were not to be used for anything anyway.

Taking the two pills yesterday may have been silly, one should not experiment with pharmaceuticals.

two bars

The small room in the top flat of the old house is comforting and silent at five in the morning. It is nice to wake up there. The bathroom is one floor down, this is a minor discomfort. The kitchen is one floor down as well, this is another minor discomfort. 

Carry the breakfast back upstairs, leave the family to sleep. Take one of the covid nineteen tests upstairs as well, in the hope that the infection has run its course. Eat the breakfast, read the news and then do the test. The test is positive, one bar a baleful red and the other not quite as red. But both lines are clearly visible. There can be no doubt about that.

Take the breakfast things down to the kitchen, and drink the remainder of the pot of coffee. The family, and apparently the cat, are asleep.

Today, it will be possible to read a book in peace and quiet, and to maintain quarantine from the family and from the rest of the universe.

2

 Those coughs and snivels are still all there, but they have stepped to the back of the stage, only occasionally coming forward to deliver their message. The message seems to be that the underlying sickness has not gone yet.

Awakening on the mattress on the floor in the top flat was strange, and very peaceful. It is possible to hear the sounds of all the neighbours awakening. There is a sudden groan and a man's voice calls on god, it is as if he is suffering.

It is bright in this part of the house, light pours into two windows, the wall opposed is whitewashed and very bright too. 

As the morning proceeds it gets cooler, as predicted the hot weather seems to be ending for now. Soon there will be another heatwave, at the latest next summer. That is optimistic, there will probably be another this summer.

A cough comes to the front stage, and delivers his message, followed by a sneeze.

Outside a hen belonging to the neighbours makes it's noises, and it starts to drizzle with rain.

It will be a couple of days yet before this infection is over

covid 1

 There were two bars on the covid test yesterday, therefore it was positive, Attempting to be a good citizen and so forth, make an appointment at the local test centre for a confirmation. Fill out an online form last night, there is an appointment free in the early morning,

Get up early in the morning and shower and go to the test centre. It is on the main street of the town, and at six twenty seven in the morning there is a young woman outside smoking her cigarette. She is wearing grey scrubs. At six thirty in the morning a young chinese couple turn up, and stride into the test centre. Let them go ahead, this is of no consequence. Listen to the young woman tell them that they will need to pay forty Euros each for whatever reason. They discuss quickly, then leave.

Hand over my piece of paper, and then the woman asks for documentation that had not been required on the internet specification. Now there will be a charge.

This is ridiculous, this is just a private firm trying to make as much money as is possible. Explain the problem again and recieve a card with a telephone number on it and get advice to go to the main test centre.

To attend here you need to have a car, it is a drive in only set-up outside of town. And they only open after nine in the morning.

The whole business is a digital nightmare.

0

 Not, No, Naught

In fact, Zero 

Sound of an early ambulance outside, the sound of this writing man's cough echoing between the narrow back yards belonging to all those buildings placed one right next to the other. Like yesterday, the ritual breakfast is done with, the eggs on toast were good and the coffee was great.

The birds are twittering outside, the pigeons are silent. It is probably wrens or finches or some such smaller bird. Perhaps they are still nesting, but it seems a little late for that.

There is no plan in the head for today. What had been done yesterday, made that unnecessary, it is purely a matter of waiting, now.

Now, at this moment, at a quarter to six in the morning of Tuesday, July 19, realise that there are no plans for the rest of the day.

Check the calendar on the computer, in a week there will be a date with the photographer to have a picture taken, a selfie will not do. All for the publicity department of the university, a sort of weirdness being out of a job and yet remaining in close contact with the job.

But meanwhile, there is no plan. There is a cough, and this is a nuisance.

pos

 The son tests positve for covid, the father does not. Both are sick and the wife does not feel well. This is not a good start to the week. The only one lively and cheerful in the early morning is the blasted cat, constantly begging and climbing things to attract attention.

The little breakfast is made, and upstairs all the windows are still open. There is the sound of pigeons cooing and the distant screams of some bird of prey coming in through the window. There is the tinnitus white noise, a steady hiss, always the same tone. The light outside is grey,  and weak, and it is warm. There is no harbinger of the great heat that today is supposed to bring.

And now the pigeon has shut up. The smaller birds twitterings are to be heard clearly now. The eyes are weak and tired now, and the legs and the shoulders ache. It is like a cold, it may easily actually just be a cold, now, in the summer.

seconds

 The telephone call last night at midnight, the son calling from Munich saying that he has tested positive for covid and wants to be collected from the railway station there. Itt is an hours drive, and after changing from the night clothes back into day clothing take the car. It is the first longer drive at night in a long time.

After a misunderstanding over what was the front of the railway station and what was the rear, and his frantic telephone call we finally met. Return to Landshut, leaving the hectic traffic of the big city behind. He is very worried about being ill.

This morning wake up much later than usual, it having been three in the morning before going to bed last night. The only other one of the family awake and she has high hopes of being fed. Let her have some food fresh from the refrigerator. She eats.Make up a small breakfast and take it up to the refuge room under the attic. The neighbours can be clearly heard, they are all awake. The children are clamouring for things, and the grandmother had was out  watering the plants. It will be another hot day today, a hot sunday.

It is time for a second cup of coffee

silence

 The builders in the neighbours house have been making noise since half past seven this morning, first with a routing device for wood and lately with an electric demolition hammer. It is to be understood that they want to get the work done before midday.

Now it is four minutes to ten and the church bell of Saint Martins makes it's noise, a clamour that just goes on and on. At the same time every day. The son is up, he is to be heard rushing up and down the stairs outside. And in the distance an ambulance sounds it's klaxon on it's way to help someone in need. And now the pigeons are cooing. The clock is ticking- and now the big bells of Saint Martins sound for the hour. Four bells and then ten. Now that spring has past the only birds left seem to be the pigeons, the neighbours hens, and the hawks. There is the sound of some late brood of birds clamouring for food for a short while, it is not clear where they are situated.

The clock on the wall ticks too. And the tinnitus' hiss never stops, fading when it receives not attention and howling into the foreground when any attempt is made to enjoy the silence

flight, flucht

 Silence in the morning is cool air in the window, the occasional sound of a bird, a neighbour belching out of the open window because he believes that nobody is awake to listen. There is the sound of occasional cars, not yet the continuous racket that they will produce as the day drags on.

The silence is made up of sounds. Underlying it all the continuous hiss of the tinnitus in the right ear. The doctor says that this is what it is, tinnitus. An affliction that cannot really be treated at all.

Now there is the clatter of crockery as one of the neighbours prepares breakfast, ready to start the day. It is a pleasant sound, it is the start of the day there for them. Now there is the sound of voices.

The church bells ring twice, it is half past six now, and it is time to stop writing and to wonder if flight from this situation is sensibly possible.

final concert

Last night's concert was the penultimate one at which the son will take part, tomorrow will be the final one. It was enjoyable, and remarkable when you consider that this is a school concert, people that have barely learnt the use of their instruments. The big band performance at the end of the concert was impressive.

This morning, leave the land of Nod at five o'clock, and make breakfast. Struggle to take the coffee and the eggs on toast upstairs, the intention being to write these notes and then to get on with the day. This plan failed, the peace and quiet in the bright upper rooms induced tiredness, and so finished the nights sleep on the green couch up there.

Settle down to write this at eight, and now the few daily words are in the computer. The ticking clocks say that the time is elapsing on this day with no particular plan as to what to do.

There is nothing unusual in that, but it is a waste of time.

stiff legs

There are messages from all over the body indicating that yesterdays strenuous climb to the top of the highest local mountain was a load on the whole system, even the back hurts from the rucksack. It was a total of twenty-two kilometres of walking, most of it on the remains of paths that had been washed out during the past winters. These paths consisted mainly of rubble and stones, and were difficult. The difference in altitude was nearly seven hundred metres.

But there is no harm done, and it was interesting.  And today, the old legs are stiff. Remember that the man met on the trail was five years older, and he was fitter in most ways.

The sun is already baking Landshut this morning, it is only up for a few hours and the air is hot already. The sounds from the street are louder through all the open windows, and people are outside talking and chatting.

Today is to be a day of strange events, there is to be a conference on video to decide the exact future of an exhibition of photographs in Landshut showing aspects of the last twenty years working for the scientists in Garching. It will also be decided whether or not a new lens for the cameras is to be bought.

Aching legs.

Walk to the landshut railway station to catch the six fifty train to Plattling. It is early, and it promises to be a warm day. The train down to Plattling is not full at all, and it is almost absolutely on time. Change for the little green local train there, a small machine with a diesel engine. It climbs into the hills of the Bavarian Forest, finally stopping at Zwiesel, a small town famous for it's glass blowing school. Change to a different small green train which is already waiting in the station. This is a strange train line, the  driver has to blow the trains horn before every crossing to warn those using the crossing of the train's approach. Also, there are request stops, where a button has to be pressed well before the station if you want the train to stop.

The destination of all this activity is a small town called Bodenmais, a touristically developed town. After a short visit to the tourist office, take the path leading to a mountain called Großer Arber.

Four hours and twelve kilometres later stand at the top of this mountain. It is the highest mountain in the range, and it has great views over the border to Czechia. There are two very large grey globular antennas there belonging to the German military. They enjoy the view too.

A man met en route served as company, and there was conversation about all kinds  of things.

Four hours later, each went his way in Bodenmais. One to his car and the other to the station to wait for the small green train. Finally, after two green trains and one big red one, return to Landshut with aching legs.

clothing day

Break the egg's shell with a knive and allow the contents to fall into the boiling salt water. Repeat this with another egg, and then put two slices of bread into the toaster. The coffee is bubbling, and the cat has gone back to sleep, she having been fed. The son's various alarm clocks have been making their noises, he is attempting to wake up early now in order to be able to get on with his life now that he has finished his schooling.

Today is the day to do the wahing, to iron all the shirts used during the recent very hot weather. They are all slightly damp waiting, each hung on a wire coathanger. Slightly damp is the setting on the clothes dryer, the German name for this setting is "Bügeltrocken".

Today is promising to be rainy, tomorrow will be fine. This is what the weather forecasts say, and so today preparations will be made for tomorrow's journey to the Bayerischer Wald, 

This is to be a worthwhile tourist trip, with hiking boots and a rucksack and all.

It is now time for a second cup of coffee, and see there – the blood pressure pills have been forgotten.

Is washing down such pills with coffee good practice or not?

time waster

 The sun is just lighting the gutter on the neighbours house, the brown copper gutter and the yellowing white paint glowing in the direct light. This is still early, and it does not last long. The light gives way to a diffused sperad light, the hole in the cloud cover must be closed now.

The patch of brightness appears and disappears again as the clouds move across the sky. Apart from the ringing of church bells, telling the time and perhaps hopefully calling people to some early religeous service.

The rooms at the top of the house with the glass table and the two big computer screens placed on it is a refuge from the rest of the house and from the family. The occasional visit from the cat is a pleasant interlude. She wanders about like some kind of inspector, looking at things, trying to stare the occasional bumble bee out of the places it is buzzing abour minding it's own business. 

The clock is ticking, marking time. There is nothing personal about this, it just keeps on saying that time is passing.

Time is being wasted all the time.

murder

There has been an effort made to clear up the kitchen, for after yesterday's careless mess there was no real choice in the matter. Perhaps the wife has filled the dishwasher, perhaps not. Pick out the coffee making utensils from among the items lying about on the tabletop, organise a small pot and start the gas. There seems to be no realisation that it is simply a matter of routine to keep things tidy, and that it is unpleasant work to clear things up after other people.

In a few minutes go upstairs with the fresh coffee and the small plate with breakfast. It is pleasantly cool today, almost slightly chilly. And, it being Saturday, there is no news in the email at all today. The bulletins from America have not arrived yet, and the German news will arrive again on Monday. 

Spend time searching for the confirmation from the tax people and discover that it has wandered into the spam folder, and has been coloured brown. Place it in the folder for mail that will need to be dealt with, it will be necessary to wait for the written certificate from the authorities. German officials do not appear to be able to easily terminate their love affair with paper.

Think about the murder of Shinzo Abe yesterday. That was stupid and sad. Like all murders, the world will be the worse for it. 

tic

 tic toc clock and now and again a knock, tic toc time flies.

Today is a nonsense day, there was post in the mailbox, there is attention which simply is hard to bear. Things that are of interest. People that have habits that are hard to cope with.  There is a pleasant and friendly man. The smell makes it easy to dislike him and hard to like him. Staying in his company is stress, it is not so easy. It is all just a whiff, and yet once it is realised it will not go away and may not be ignored any more. The conversation is fascinating, the general disorder is terrifying

The post was yesterday, the day a farewell party failed. Today was breakfast, the eggs, the toast and the coffee. Not to forget the pills contra the high blood pressure, and the ibuprofen to reduce the headache that will follow soon. What a drag it all is, all those pink, cream and white pills every day. The doctor will have returned from her holiday tomorrow.

It is cooler  today, and the clock is doing its ticking talk, summer is progressing and the next month is August.

stress, relax

 Clocks tick in the living room, and there is a big one ticking in the upstairs room, the refuge room. The ones downstairs are French, the upstairs one is German. Two are telling the same time, the one from Le Havre is erratic. It generally errs.

Toast, cheese and coffee fro breakfast, a few bites for the cat. The cat vanishes, she goes back to sleep. Her morning duty seems to consist of begging for food and then eating it. There are probably no mice in the house any more, not after the cat's regular patrols and the efforts of the municipal pest control people. Two pots of coffee and two slices of bread. 

Today is the sons birthday, he is eighteen today and he may go and vote at elections and he is eligible for a driving licence. And on this same day one of the people at the old place of work have decided to celebrate their retirement now that covid will allow such a party. Chance will have it that both parties are to take place on the same day. The son is celebrating his birthday in a small way at home, and the other party is fifty kilometres away.

It is a stressful day for what are supposed to be relaxing events.

Hot

 The usual early rising, make a cup of coffee and take the blood pressure pills. It will be necessary to go to the doctor next week to get a prescription for the other ones, the ominous iron tablets.

Take the coffee upstairs and read the news, Boris has another bullet to bite and America is mourning the victims of another gunman's rampage. There are no novelties in the world, just the same old disasters. Immediately afterwards start to fall asleep sitting in front of the computer. Go to the couch in the side room and lie down. 

Fall into a morning doze, and then fall fast asleep. Awake two hours later to listen to the chatter of a neighbour, indistinct over the rooftops.

There are things to be done today, office things. It will be necessary to telephone with the insurance company and to speak with the tax accountant These are all things that need to be done for other people's sakes, but the fines for not doing them on time will hit the whole family. This seems to be normal government practice.

The first thing that needs to be done is this entry to this blog, this is a daily thing. The weather is now constantly hot, and this is frightening. It is only the beginning of July and it is as hot as otherwise August would be. 

weather

 The cat makes noises, so wake up. It is early again, the sun is barely up. The room is filled with the sounds of the cat and the snores from the other side of the bed. Sit up, and the cat stops fussing about and takes up position on the floor. She sits there and starts to purr, then she rolls onto her back and holds her front paws in front of her chest. If the cat knows what a bably seal is then she would be imitating one.

The whole body feels queasy, it is just getting up too early that does it. Make a cup of coffee in the kitchen, and a small breakfast. Take the pills as the doctor ordered, the iron tablets have run out. Take the cup and the plate upstairs to the refuge room and enjoy it there. Read the news and see that another massacre has taken place in the USA. 

There is no other significant news, other than that gas will become very much more expensive as time passes. Germans are going on their annual vacations as if nothing had happened. It will be another warm day today, the winter's problems with cold weather seem far away.

news

 There was something planned for today, and whatever it was, it has been forgotten. This happens every Monday, this may be due to not having made clear plans over what needs to be done and how it is to be done. The result of this is a small vacuum. The sensation is enhanced by the steady his of white noise in the head. It sounds much like the gas hissing under the coffee maker this morning. A steady hißß, a non word with a double Eszet. A sound with a German letter of the alphabet in it.

The news today is not good, and that is not new. It is rarely that good news is reported on. It is as if few good things happened in the world. Maybe it is so.

Now it is time to go back down to the kitchen to get a second cup of coffee.

no false step

 The cat vomited in the hallway during the night, and the biggest satisfaction this morning was not to have stepped into the damp array of partly digested cat food. Such a false step would have been a really bad start to the day. 

Take the spare roll of toilet paper in the bathroom and wipe up the mess, finishing it all off with a wash of water. It is good that carpets are not part of the decoration here, they would be more difficult to clean up. All is well now, and it is time for breakfast.

The steady hiss in the left ear has been joined by a high pitched whistle, the whole thing is beginning to sound like a distant jet engine. The thought that these noises caused by the tinnitus will never go away is saddening. It is the feeling of being a broken down machine that is no longer working as it should which is disturbing.

Despite the cat's best efforts, breakfast is delicious. At five to seven the first aircraft of the morning flies past overhead on it's way to the landing at Munich airport.

wishful thinking facing a full sink and a dishwasher full of clean dishes

 Last night the son had his school party, the end of schooling. He returned early, early in the morning, and there was a considerable noise in the kitchen, a noise of cooking and eating. A sort of midnight munchies, or a last cup of tea before bed.

The mess in the kitchen in the morning was as to be expected. It was not strange that the dishwasher was not emptied. Doing the dishes has never been a favourite chore, regardless of whether it is purely a matter of emptying the machine and refilling it or the more substantial work of doing it all by hand. It makes no difference, the machine only does part of the work.

Between the mess of opened packages and all the other mess make a messy breakfast, a cup of coffee and the poached eggs on toast. The toaster has been tampered with, and now the toast is slightly burnt. The sink is full of yesteday's crockery and an empty plastic ice cream container. The ice cream container should have made it across the room to the waste bag, but there it is in the sink.

Apply an act of will not to waste personal time clearing up all this mess. At some stage surely realisation will come that it needs to be cleaned away.

Think about this, and realise that it is nothing but wishful thinking.

quiet, quite alone

 Yesterdays forgetfulness is the cause of there being no bread available for today's breakfast toast. That is just too bad. So there is a slice of brown bread and butter and a cup of coffee for breakfast today.

Certainly, that is better than nothing.

The cat is sleeping stretched out, it must be because it is too warm for the animal to curl up.

Take the cup of coffee up to twerrwerewewewrerwhe workroom, and enjpy the silence there, silence but for the bird song outside the open door to the balcony.

The clouds in the sky withdraw at a quarter past seven, and the light gets brighter. The steady hiss in the left hand side of the head doesa not go away at all, it seems louder and more notice     able today. There is no clue as to what might be causing it, and it is irritating. Try to ignore that.

Today is more lonely and quiet in the morning, not even the cat is up. Maybe it is bedause yesterday was so hot. Nothing seems to want ot move.