Sleep will come eventually.

 The bed transmits the sound of the deep vibrations of a concert somewhere in the town. It is four in the morning and the vibrations of the thumping bass from the amplifiers of some nightly party somewhere is travelling through the walls and the floors of the old building. The mechanical thumping is not really loud, but it is clear in the silence of the night. The church bells are louder, but the steady drum and bass noise is more irritating. The more treble parts of the entertainment can be heard occasionally in the far distance, but the prime source of the disturbance are the drums and the bass.

The two clocks in the studio are ticking away to themselves, they are making a continuous noise. But the ticking will not penetrate the door or the walls to the bedroom as the bass sounds from the distant event are.

There is sleeplessness too because yesterday was such a sedentary day. It will be said that this is a personal fault. 

But now these things can no longer be corrected. Sleep will come eventually.

The son is downstairs, packing his things for a visit to Berlin. Offer to drive him to the railway station, he refuses in a fit of independence. He is nineteen years old, this is fair enough. Hear him leave the house, after having said his goodbye.

Half an hour later, there is a frantic knocking on the door. He had to return, as he had forgotten something.

Now he needs a lift to the railway station, or he will be late.

Put on clothes, and walk with him to the car. It is a short drive to the railway station, a distance of two kilometres.

Still, that would have been another half an hours walk. Say goodbye on the platform, think about how many farewells have been experienced on platforms.

Return home, make a cup of coffee. It is now six in the morning, it will be wroth returning to bed.

Sleep will come eventually