mornings end

 Last night projected itself into this morning, after listening to records selected by a friend from his record collection yestedrday. It was a nice Christmas meal at his place, well worth attending. The streets on the way home were icily deserted, sporting only their Christmas illuminations.

The awakening was both early and unpleasant, today on Boxing Day, as it is called in England and Ireland.

But there is no harm done, the cat wants to be stroked, the hair washed, breakfast made, the order of memory is not sequential any more. There is that telephone call at ten, there will be a meeting at one and then there will be a walk in the park for a few hours and then hopefully that will be that, for that relationship will go nowhere.

Lie down again to to gather strength for the coming difficulties, and awake again towards the mornings end with a cautious feeling in the head and a mild tinnitus on the right hand 

The day was spent in comfort of a man with depressions, a man trying to gain strength from easy company, a man who never learnt to grow into a situation. It is hard to refuse attention to one so needy

The evening was spent listening to a dreamer telling his tales in the pub, dreaming of the completion of plans made years ago and celebrating his good education which never helped him, not at all.

There is a concert in the restaurant on the corner of the road and it is rough, it is well played cover versions of rhythmic tunes, the lyrics sung so roughtly that nothing remained but the muscle jerking rhythem of the drums and bass