It is twelve minutes past twelve, the cat started the day with a vociferous announcement regarding her desire for food. After having gone to bed around two o'clock in the morning these announcements were unwanted at half past six that same morning.
Got up, put a dollop of food on the plate.
Back to bed again, feeling all the pains induced by yesterdays walk and last nights work. The work modelling the figures in wood is strange. The sculptors chisels will not leave a smooth surface, the use of scrapers removes the chisel markers. Because the artist has ruined the joints on his thumbs he is not able to do this work himself. So it is possible and maybe necessary to help out. The experience informs of the nature of wooden surfaces and their varied reactions to mechanical treatment.
The cat, dissatisfied, interrupts the sleep again, this time by knocking the cat food tins off the shelf where they are kept. Her measures are ineffective, the tins remain sealed. Give her another dollop, and tidy up the tins.
Prepare breakfast, it is ten in the morning. Go upstairs, take a shower. Forget to water the plants.
Downstairs again, clear up the breakfast, and wonder where the cat is.
There is a sound from above, and the overfed animal leaps from the top shelf in the tiny kitchen onto the worktop and then to the floor.
The animal does not give up easily.
Make another cup of coffee, and turn on the radio. It is a warm day out, fresh air comes in through the open window.
It is now nearly half past twelve, there will be time to finish the coffee and to wash up the dishes.
Maybe even to water the plants.
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