tension

 An early awakening and arising was the only option left for the human. The cat kept up a permanent intermittent noise indicating a wish for food or for attention, maybe even both, Give her both, and she shuts up for a while.

Send the prints to the printer, as planned.

Get dressed, as always. Fresh socks and fresh underpants, and a fresh tee shirt as well come out of their various storage places. By that time coffee is made and breakfast is almost ready. The prints are still printing, there are twelve of them, each about twenty by twenty-five centimetres, or eight by ten inches. Which ever method of measurement you prefer, you can take it. The inches are to be seen as Imperial inches, as would suit all anglo - Saxon protestants. Why waste proper nouns and capital letters unnecessarily?

After the beds made, the cat is fed again and again, the prints are cut, and the dishes washed away go to the shops.

Whilst there buy a bottle of wine. Forget to buy eggs and cat food. That is all for tomorrow now.

Return, write a note to the artist on that miserable WhatsAp system, hoping that he will find the time to reply.

Take a nap on the bed, this works until the cat decides that it would care for some more food.

Find that the artist has replied, and agreed to the layout of the cover of the book. Send the book on to the printing firm, the worries over the uploading of the document on account of its size turn out to be unfounded.

The bill arrives, the bill is paid, and a notice arrives that work has commenced.

"We live in fast times"

Use the car to bring the monitor to the studio. Whilst there effect a temporary repair on the pump of the artists fish tank using a spare hair rubber donated by the sister of the pubs owner. He and his father and his sister are having a discussion on the premises.

Upon leaving, notice that a quantity of wood has been left out in the rain. It is the same wood as that used by the artist, it may be assumed that it is his. It may be assumed that the landlord has removed it from the storage space in a fit of some rage. He had permitted the landlord to keep the wood there. There are strange tensions here and these are all other people's business.

Drive home.

Make a very simple evening meal.

Hear things go "bump" in the passageway.

Look out and see that the wife has dragged the rubbish bin in from the place where it had been left in front of the door.

Say hello, she does not say a word and continues to stump up the stairs.

It is not just the artist who has tension in his environment.