The sky is a delightful uniform grey, and the temperature is cool. The summer is running out now, like a leaking canister. Listen to radio now, hear the Bayerischer Rundfunk classical programme. After the news just now, they are playing Duke Ellington.
Think of the things that need to be done today. Think about doing more than thinking about them.
Decorating the room was exhausting, the sixty-seven years are all tangible now. Maybe it is just time to give up on that kind of activity.
Plastering the room yesterday proved more strenuous than had been expected. Plastering should be left to plasterers much like glazing should be left to glaziers. But the stuff has stuck to the walls this time and it has set hard, which is what was wanted. The floor is a mess, it is only good that it had been covered with a plastic sheeting beforehand. It should be possible to finish later today, to get the painting done and then that will have been it.
The weather has become pleasant and autumnal, the glaring summer heat is now over and the air blowing in through the open doors and windows is fresh and cool. That is good.
Read the news, that American wasp is not credible, but it is a shame to see such a powerful country caught in the grip of a fanatic rabble who will support the man. He is not religious but even the religious fundamentalists there gather to his summons. Offer a first step to power, and they are prepared to commit any sin. Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth are the seven that Gregory made out. He omitted officious behaviour and selfishness, but then he was a pope in the middle ages and would have made his own life harder. But the deadly seven will do as to found a criticism of modern day hypocrisy.
Walk aroud the house in which all are sleeping but for the cat and realise that there are to many non-operational clocks hanging on the walls.
The dishwasher is as full now as it was yesterday evening. Squeeze in a few more items and place a detergent tablet in its door-mounted holder. Then set the dial and press the button. A red light underneath the word "SALZ" lights up. Open the machine again, pull out the lower rack and open the salt container. Fill this with salt from the package of special dishwasher salt and replace the lid. Close the machine and start it again. The warning has gone. Dishwasher consume large amounts of salt during their operation.
There is a second pot of coffee now burbling away to itself on the gas ring. Turn off the gas and fill the cup left waiting on the work top. The work top does not have the dirty dishes and cutlery on it any more. That has all been placed into the dishwasher. The surfaces could do with wiping, but that is a job better left to those who left the dirt there. It is there for them to remove or to ignore, as they please.
Take the full cup of black brew upstairs and write these notes. It is late on Monday morning, and it will not be long before the day's depressions set in.
The news from America is incredible, right wing news outlets are threatening violence should justice be done in a manner not to their liking. All in support of a man who has a sphincter in front of his teeth, there where others have their lips.
The Ukrainian ambassador to Germany speaks for his country and insults the local politicians for voicing opinions unsuited to his beliefs. A weak person reared in a corrupt country could hardly do otherwise, a poor reflection on those he represents.
And the Russian autocrat is silent, but for his wishes for one hundred and twenty five thousand youths to be prepared to die in the service of his dreams for the country.
There are plenty of reasons for depression today, let the hours flow!
Sunday, the next door children are clamouring for their parents, for their grandparents, or maybe they are just furious because they are all wide awake and everybody else is not. The other neighbour is busy explaining things in to his wife in his gravelly voice and she answers in the small girls voice that has served her well over the last sixty years.
It is Sunday, pack up the washing and bring it down to the washing machine after breakfast. Fill the washing machine with white and light things first, leave the remainder in the plastic container. Wait to make sure that the washing machine has started. After a short delay there is the gurgling sound of water being admitted to the machine by the machine's electronic systems.
Upstairs, there is the usual fit of dizziness again. Lie down until this has passed. This is turning into a daily event. Then read what news there is to be read on this Sunday morning, It seems that the clowns in this world are being given the rope they want, a little more time for some arbitrator who will do nothing more than arbitrate. And now the dizziness has returned.
Sleep well on the hard bed, there is no point in needing luxurious softness beyond the needs of the body that was made to rest on an earthen ground. A robotic regularity takes over and the routine of downstairs, and bathroom, breakfast making and taking breakfast upstairs is executed. There are two extra slices of salami today.
Read the news, there is insufficient gas for heating, Russia is burning what it will not sell and America is fighting an old man's attempt to revise the past that a Russian is saying never existed.
The thought occurs that revisionism is like trying to hatch out a boiled egg. History is to be enjoyed and it is possible to learn that, for example, if you want to hatch eggs you should not boil them first. There are conservative leaders and electorate in the world who have not grasped this, they seem to want past history to join with some future, in ignorance of the real and current present.
Go downstairs for a second cup of coffee. The salami is a cheap one, awfully greasy and flavourless. A discount suppliers mixture of meat products and salt, a thing no animal should have died for. The coffee is by Lavazza, and a pleasant blend, different from the discounters heavily roasted robust mixture. It is Saturday, and the neighbour is starting work on his building, an enormous do it yourself project, central to his life.
The small room at the end of the top flat is waiting, the walls are stripped of bad plaster, they will need coating with a sort of size, and then replastering, a thin coat to finish the walls ready for painting. It was a mistake years ago to save money by using a poor product which looked good for a while but failed miserably.
It will be necessary to make the bed, then to find a set of overalls, and then bring water to mix the size to do the work. A matter of a couple of hours until that is done.
There is dust everywhere in the bedroom, despite yesterdays attempts to remove it. The dust is from the room next door to the bedroom, the one in which the defective plaster had to be removed. The removal itself was not difficult, as the agents binding the plaster had failed. But it was dry and dusty, and the dust travelled through the crack under the door and put a fine grey coating on everything, on all surfaces. The worst is over now, but the dust will turn up in unexpected overlooked places for the coming year.
Hear the neighbours discuss something, and wonder whether life in the top flat here is the subject of their discussion. Perhaps it is, it means a small alteration in their lives as well. This can all be their business alone, it can only be hoped that they do not find a reason for complaint as they had done previously. The complaints manifest themselves as reminders from town officials informing of restrictions in building laws. There is always and often trouble among neighbours.
Yesterday the cat escaped and took a tour of the neighbours property. This caused a commotion, and the wife spent half the night shouting after the cat trying to persuade it to return. The cat, being a cat, returned in her own good time.
Perhaps some of the dust travelled over to the neighbours garden, and sullied their garden furniture. It is possible, it is all a cause for silent animosity underlying surface friendliness.
The cat makes complaining noises, it is early, it is barely dawn. The cat has come up to the small bedroom and is standing by the new bed. She is distressed. Barely awake, reach out and pat her on the bony head. She responds with a purring noise and then moves to the open door to the balcony. Then she comes back, and complains again. Stroke her head again and she purrs.
Get up and follow her downstairs, into the disaster area kitchen. She stands in front of her empty plate and complains. Go to the fridge and take out an opened tin of cat food and using a dirty fork from the pile of unwashed dishes put some cat food onto her plate. She starts to eat, that is the problem solved as far as she is concerned.
Empty the coffee maker, washing the used grounds down the sink, fill the base of the machine with water and turn on the grinder for the coffee beans. When that has stopped working fill up the aluminium sieve on the coffee maker, and place it into the coffee maker, start the gas burner and put the coffee maker onto the flame. Then take the small pan and fill it with water, and put it onto the burner next to the coffee pot. Two slices of bread on the toaster, two eggs from the refrigerator and collect a cup and a saucer and a plate from the cupboard, A knife and fork from the drawer underneath the work top complete these preparations. It is a good day, there are a few of these things available, clean and where they are meant to be. The water is boiling, add some salt and vinegar and crack the eggs into the bubbling liquid. Start the electric toaster.
The cat has finished, and it hurries off on whatever business it now has. Cats can move using just their feet, the remainder of their body remaining stiff and straight. This gives there movement a sense of concentration, a sense of purposeful hurry.
The coffee maker burbles, the coffee is ready. Turn off the gas flame. The toaster makes a noise of released springs, the toast pops up. Take it, and spread butter on each peice of toast. Arrange them on the plate and remove the eggs from the water using a spoon with drainage holes. Put them on the toast and then fill the cup with coffee. Clean and rinse the small pan in which the eggs had been poached.
This is breakfast, poached eggs on toast and a cup of coffee. Take the whole lot upstairs, switching off the lights when leaving the kitchen.
The cat is nowhere to be seen, it is probably sleeping now.
The new bed from Ikea is a complex construction, it was hard to see how all the bits of wood with holes drilled into them would ever turn into a usable bed.
After two hours work assembling the structure using the instructions provided the parts turned into a box with three drawers. It appeared to be smaller when assembled. It offered no real increase in comfort either, except that the mattress was now elevated. It is now easier to get into and out of the bed. A mattress on the floor is not ideal. And now there is a stowage space under the bed, that is useful too.
Get up, go downstairs, go to that bathroom, and make breakfast. Be careful not to disturb the mess in the kitchen, surely that is somebody elses job. Take the breakfast up to the rooms again, read about assassination in Russia, special masters in America, and diffuse news about the war in the Ukraine. This is all the news that is available at the early hour. And then lie down in the new bed again. It is no softer than the mattress on the floor, it is just a little bit further off the ground. Fall asleep for another half an hour, why not?
Awake, dress, and take the breakfast dishes downstairs. Decide to make another cup of coffee, and as it is making, clear out the dishwasher and tidy away the clean crockery and the cooking things that were in it. Arrange the stacks of dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and the things have all gone by the time the coffee maker is finished. Take the coffee upstairs, and return to writing these notes. The kitchen is not clean, but it is a little bit tidier.
Pack up all the Ikea boxes that are still in a heap in the corner. A large proportion of these products is packaging materials, cardboard boxes and spacers. Tidy the heap up and put the bits and pieces into one of the boxes. The paper collection people will deal with this in the coming weeks.
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| pigeon and shadow of a pigeon |
The cat drifts around the bare human feet in the kitchen, that furry feline head butting against the legs to gain attention. She wants to be fed. As a result, the first thing to be done after the morning visit to the bathroom is to open the refrigerator and to take out the can of cat food. Using a fork place a small heap of the odoriferous contents onto the cat's plate. That deals with the cat's attentions, her wishes are fulfilled. Charge the coffee maker and put on the water for the eggs. These are the last eggs of the batch of ageing cheap eggs that had been bought last week. They are labelled as biological, and they have a strange taste, and now they will be gone.
The upstairs breakfast is pleasant, the news on the computer is not. It is literally all drought, war and famine, corruption and nepotism and murder. The sun outside is glaring out of a deep blue sky, the protection given to the planet by a clean atmosphere has been destroyed by greenhouse gases.
The fact that cows pass wind was not a cause of this, damage was done by keeping cows on an industrial scale. The camp fire never hurt anybody, the wholesale burning of fossilised fuels has released the ...
These are things that everyone knows, they no longer bear thinking about.
The cool weather is good for sleep, the sound of the rain pouring down the gutters and dripping off the tiled roofs is a relaxing sound. The summer rain is a present after two months of what turned out to be a drought.
There is the sound of the cat, she has found her way up to the top flat and is now making noises. This is a new situation for her, she does not know where to turn. The mattress on the ground seems to disturb her, she will not step upon it. The cat is exploring, and she is complaining. She wants to be fed.
Never mind washing, put on the day clothes and go downstairs, the cat following so closely that one could imagine that she is on tow. She follows her human into the bathroom, never stopping her purring and calling. It must be hunger. She follows closely all the way to the kitchen over the loose tiles in the hallway.
The kitchen is disastrously untidy, the son has been satisfying his midnight munchies again, and has failed to clear up the mess. Nobody has cleared up much here, by the looks of things. The dishwasher has not been emptied, there are all kinds of packages on the worktop, packages empty and full. Pick one up to read the printing and see that it contains the inner tube for a bicycle wheel. Imagine what a boiled rubber tube must taste like, then put it down again. This is all just too much.
Feed the cat, make breakfast between the piles of ordures, and return upstairs alone, the cat having now disappeared. Eat and read the news, such as it is.
Things cannot go on like this.
The weather is grey and cool now and that is a relief. Sleep is deep and long, this is unusual. The neighbours are having one of their discussions outside, talking in loud voices as if they were alone in the world. Perhaps they think that they are.
There are fresh clothes in the drawers of the chest of drawers, put on a fresh set of clothes for this Friday. There is a knock on the door, the son is there to ask whether or not we can go to the café as had been promised yesterday evening.
Read the news and write these notes. The German news is full of energy shortages and drought, and the American news reports on much the same. There is scant news from Ukraine, but it now looks as if Russia has made a mistake.
Cracking the egg on the side of the pan it broke open completely and deposited both white and yolk onto the surface of the gas cooker. A thing to clean up later, to remove the egg from under the gridiron and the gas jets. This is a job for later on this morning. Now take the fresh coffee and the eggs on toast upstairs to the upper rooms, the personal refuge from the sordid mess that is the family. It took years to take this step, dishonourable as it is, the step back from disaster and an assessment of what is to be saved.
Remember that friends will only see things through the lens formed by their own lives, and their lives are all different.
The eggs taste strange, perhaps they have been around too long. The wife had given instructions that they were to be consumed first, perhaps they were cheaper and perhaps they are reaching the end of their shelf lives.
The kitchen is a disaster, the son was cooking stuff during the night.
He is a grown young man now, and he is to clean up all his own mess.
That tinnitus' white noise in the right hand side of the head, a steady sound like a gas jet or the air escaping from a defective tyre.
The clock is ticking on the wall, that old German clock from the fifties, and it is marking time well.
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| Woman in a red dress walking a white dog by the river |
Picture taken in Landshut on the 12th of August 2022
Dead summer silence, those that do so every year are on holidays again this year, and there is not a sound from the streets. A neighbours child complains, a bell rings twice. That is all right, but otherwise there is no soun.d. Not even the birds, so noisy in springtime, are making a sound now. They have simply stopped. They will probably be back next year.
The family is asleep, the cat is wandering about seeking attention.
After thirty years of work for a company, it is strange not to have anything much to go to, to attend to, or to see about.
The strangest thing is the loneliness that comes from being able to avoid the unpleasant people, those that were impossible to avoid earlier.
Upon a post breakfast return to bed there were visitations by the most remarkable dreams, a dream of stepping onto a luxury coach and then asking the driver to get out at a traffic lights, a request granted without question. Then a walk along a street, late evening and the sound of a group of men carousing. Later , around a bend, this group of men became visible all sitting on a stone bench in a park.
Upon awakening it was nine in the morning and it seemed sad that there would be no opportunity to hear the end of the song. Even though the voices were all untuned and strange.
Later it occurs to me that it was probably the neighbours having an argument heard from the land of nod.
Today is Assumption day, and that is Mariä Himmelfahrt for the German catholics. Since the bells on the church are broken the peace and silence is doubled.
Ant it is now a quarter to ten, and the neighbours are starting their discourse again.
Sunday, another bright day, blue skies and red tiled roofs outside the window. The house opposite has been painted white, that increases the general brightness.The walls in the room are white, and the new bedclothes are white too. It is all very bright.
It has only rained during the short thunderstorms of the last few weeks, the last thunderstorm has left the clock on Saint Martins church standing at eleven thirty, and since then the bells do not ring either. It is a very peaceful Sunday, there is only the sound of the more distant church bells. The lightening strike was a blessing, a blessing for those who suffer from the noise in the vicinity of those strident calls to the faithful.
The news of the ex-President of the United States of America is great fun, it remains to be seen if he manages to escape this time. If he is guilty and he does, then that is the end of credibility for that state.
And Russia is like a blind man playing football, it has been shown the red card many times.
The temperature is perfect for sleeping, it is cool, not cold and there is a slight movement of the air, a kind of steady freshness.
The light is now to bright for sleeping, so get up and go downstairs, the bathroom, and then the kitchen. The coffee maker filled, water boiled, toast laid on the toaster. It all works like a routine, the eggs cracked into the pan.
The coffee made, the toast done and the eggs rescued from the water.
Take the whole lot upstairs, this is the pleasure of starting the day alone. The sounds of an early morning helicopter cause the air to vibrate, and there is the distant call of pigeons. There is the steady ticking of the clock on the wall as well, a mechanical reminder that time is passing and that this relaxing morning will not last for ever. It will stop rather sooner than later.
Read about the last president of the United States, a clown and pop star, a gangster disrespecting the laws that put him into place. Read about the tragedy that is Ukraine, and its sad neighbours. All these countries seem have many believers that power vested in one person alone is a key to successful government. The phrase "nobody is perfect" seems beyond their mental horizon.
The news on the web is sparse on Saturdays.
A sunbeam reflected from the building opposite is the cause for today's awakening. It has taken a path from the low sun, over the roof and to the window of the house across the neighbours yard to be reflected there and to shine in through the window, illuminating just the pillow and the end of the bed in a brilliant white glare. That is the end of the night's sleep.
The kitchen has been cleaned and tidied a good bit now. The disastrous situation of the last few days finally got to be too much for the son and the wife, and so the mess was cleaned. There is now slight hope that this will continue. It is a small hope, but it is better than hopelessness.
There are tiny clouds in the sky, this may be a promise for cooler weather. A slim hope.
The sunbeam has moved on now, and the light is not even illuminating the neighbours window any more.
The neighbours are yelling at each other and their children. They all speak with particularly loud voices, particularly the men.
Read the news, the complications arising from the special operation in the Ukraine are rendering the bear bloodless. And Trump is putting the fear of the sovereign on his opponents, and is using the press to apply pressure on those that know that he has his believers held in blind faith to him. The news is hard to understand, and it becomes clear that the truth has been finely diced.
Yesterday's excursion to Regensburg, to meet an old friend, to walk about the town was fun. It was pleasant until exhaustion struck, and further movement became difficult, and it became impossible to concentrate on what was being explained. Just a sudden woozy sound in the head and a bright area in the centre of the field of vision, an area of low contrast and glare.
Suddenly, the company of the friend became difficult, her words hard to understand. It may have been all day walking in the sun, or it may have been those two glasses of beer at midday. It may have been many things, it is hard to say, let alone to write down.
The endless succession of hot dry days is taking its toll on the countryside and on the towns. Everyone knows that though there is no scarcity of water now, it will come. This is not entirely sure, but surely most probable.
When there is sand around people will behave like the ostrich, and bury their heads in the sand.
Now, back in Landshut, there is the sound of electric hammers beating walls as a precursor for renovation work. The removal and destruction of old things is always the start. Work on yesterday's photos, the girl on the steps, the hatter, and the man with the dog.
The bells clanging on the church, a minute after six in the morning, the sun has just risen into a steel-blue sky. The blue is unbroken as far as the sky can be seen between the houses. This continuous hot dry weather is just going on and on, it is like a disaster approaching, The times are pleasant now, but this could all turn nasty soon enough.
Sleeping alone has things to be said for it, it is undisturbed and short.
Outside the light is blue, reflected from the sky. There is no bird calling yet, all is silent apart from the distant road noise of a passing car. The church bells have stopped their noise. It is silent but for the ticking of the clock.
And a single clang from the various churches bells for the first quarter of the hour. There would have been no reason to set the alarm last night, it will sound in three quarters of an hour.
Today is the day for an excursion to Regensburg. To visit an old friend.
Monday morning and the retiree languor of the last days is continuing, sleep longer and dispel the weakness felt during the past weeks, let us hope that strength is coming back week for week. A game that will be lost over time because that which is lost can never be fully restored, even if it can be restored in any way at all.
It is eight in the morning and the breeze blows through the open windows of the tiny incomplete third floor flat. It is not the kind of place to evoke any jealousy among the very proper neighbours, it is a bit like a child's hut in a tree, all made of make believe and not quite right in any artisan's opinion. But it is a peaceful place and it is a refuge, with a steadily ticking clock to remind the world that time is fleeing, And that is worthwhile, all for now.
The sun is blaring out of a clear blue sky, remember the joy of the downpour and thunder of a few days ago, the quick rush of the water pouring off the roofs after it's descent from the clouds as raindrops. That sound came in through the open windows and balcony doors, and it fell so vertically that hardly any wet the floor. The temperature fell to a pleasant level - and the sound of the rushing rain blocked the tinnitus' hiss.
Peace for a short while, and it is good to wake up here today.
The seaside song on the phone starts at six, this is an alarm to wake the sleeper. A friend has dictated an early rising, for whatever reason he has planned some egocentric madness again. Yes, he is the one who manages to include the word "I" at least once in every sentence. He does not realise that he is driving people into a defensive position, and carries on regardless. Nobody is really interested, only his group of people who talk about themselves all the time too.
But all this is no reason to miss breakfast and a glass of water, and do not forget the pills
Put on the walking shoes, and consider what will be needed. Not much is really required. The man will feel tired in about two hours and will want to go home again, referring all the while to his age and his heart condition. Going for a bicycle tour with such a person is difficult, either his whims are followed or you go alone.
Alone is sometimes better
and now it is half past eight
it rained last night, there was a thunderstorm, the church spire was struck by lightning. The lightning conductors must have worked, the spire is still standing. The thunder as loud and sharp, the discharge was hardly one hundred metres away.
the air in the night was good for sleeping
It was a late and languid awakening today
breakfast and shower
and a second pot of coffee
and an icecream to go with it
close the window left open last night by the wife. It is too late to save anything from the soaking rain that found ingress here, but there is no need to leave the window open.
Upstairs again, in the refuge, finish the coffee, finish the ice cream and write these notes. These are notes to nobody in particular, but you people who read them with regularity will know why you take the bother. Read about the Ukrainian disaster, the starvation in Africa, and know that those who are corrupting high officialdom have already laid out the reasons to justify their personal gain at the cost of others misery.
It is always important to ask the person looking out of the mirror as to what you are doing yourself, and as to whether or not that is justifiable.
If the person in the mirror answers, you are borderline insane.
!
At five in the morning the weather is hot and stuffy, the sky is free of clouds and it threatens to be another hot day in this summer that has barely started. Traditionally, the hot weather is yet to come. It is hard to imagine the days getting warmer still. The bed on the floor is softer because the heat prohibits the use of the duvet as a cover and lets it augment the thin foam mattress.
The mess in the kitchen could be worse today, but why care too much? Things cannot go on this way, and they will come to an end whichever the way that they will have done so. There is no way to precisely tell the future, no way at all. Breakfast is made and everything tastes well after it has been taken up to the quite refuge at the top of the house.
This is not writing, it is just short notes to express feelings and things encountered in the early hours of the day.
that's all
Light from the open door to the balcony, and already there is the first warmth of what will probably be another very hot day. There is no wish to do anything much at all, other than to make the small breakfast and to read the news. From all of the houses around about there is the sound of awakening families, the sound of clattering crockery, and more distant, the sound of some machinery. There is the muffled sound of speech and a cough. All of the buildings here are so close together that it is difficult to tell where each of the sounds are coming from.
It is a peaceful atmosphere. Downstairs, in the kitchen, the mess is incredible. Find the necessary implements and a pot and the coffee maker and make breakfast. Take care not to disturb any of the chaos and not to start clearing. There is no point. All of the horizontal surfaces are full of items that have not been cleared away. It will not be long now before there is a complaint that the kitchen is not big enough and that there is not enough storage space. Take the breakfast upstairs, and a cup of coffee too.
There is a message from a friend, a demanding friend who wants time this weekend to take a ride on a bicycle. This would be his pleasure. And his conversation would probably be about himself and his family and his friends.
These are all very charming people, his friends.
It is Wednesday again, the weeks are spooling away like the line on an anglers reel. The difference is that there is no way to haul them back in again, they are gone.
Outside there is the sound of a hen laying an egg, her exertions loud and long. In the distance the sound of physical repairs to a building. The windows are open all the time, all these sounds flood in from the waking town.
It is only a small town, and it will fall back into a mid morning slumber shortly. The üpper flat is opem to both sides, it almost gives the feeling of being out of doors. It will become cold again in November, that will be when the lack of insulation will make itself felt.
Living in the upper flat is pleasant, it is somewhat separate from the family and the tensions there. Yesterday evening the cat came to visit, it wandered around purring all the while. It stayed for an hour, and then left to wander through the house on whatever cat business was on hand.
This is the anniversary of the mothers death, forty-eight years ago.
Listen to the rain falling, a welcome sound. There is hope that this will cool the morning, but this is only a hope, it is nothing definite. The mattress on the floor of the barely finished room offers minimal comfort. The room has a large print advertising a Van Gogh exhibition in the 1990's on the wall, a colourful surface on a white surface.
The rooms renovation had been begun with high hopes of an early conclusion, but a combination of apparent disinterest and inability to find craftsmen dashed the hopes two years ago. Now they serve as a peaceful refuge from the familiar chaos in the remainder of the house. There is an attempt to civilise things, but somehow it is all doomed to failure. It is becoming hard to blame others, the one to be met in the mirror must be at fault. He is alone in his mirror, and can find no way out of the space depicted there.
A pensioner who may stay in bed until seven, that is one of the luxuries of having social insurance and not being subject to the whims of commerce. But the great joy of it was the sound sleep, a welcome change from the past weeks.
The sun has risen some time ago, and in the kitchen the coffee pot has been put on by the son, he has woken too. The cat wants her food, she is insistent. Cats are generally attentive when they want to be fed.
Make breakfast, and be happy with a small portion of coffee, the remainder is for the son, after all.
Today is the day with the appointment at the photographer, but that is in a few hours, there is plenty of time. A mug shot, for the people permitting the use of the photographs in an exhibition, so that they can make their publicity out of the whole business. It is not a terribly exciting business, but it will be strange to be before the camera lens and not behind it.
Outside, the Portuguese family have started a Monday morning shouting match, the sound echos between the buildings, there is the sound of one particularly angry woman. Due to a lack of language skills it is not possible to work out what the subject of the matter is, but they continue their argument for a long time.
And when they stop, an aircraft flies past overhead, low and noisy.
Then they start again.
It is definitely Monday.
Go back down to the kitchen for more coffee.
