I drift awake. Briefly I open my eyes and see light clearly defining the edge of the shutters and sleepily they close once more. I hear birds, sparrows by their song, a roar of car tyres briefly breaks the natural sounds, as it fades I’m aware of the constant drum of rain hitting something, I know not what. I hear voices, maybe a mother and child. I don’t know what time it is but I know what time it isn’t.
It isn’t 8am yet. At 8am the town will wake properly with the insistent call of the church bells as the ones opposite battle with the church on the town square, the buildings a mere hundred yards apart. That’s the thing with seeing with your ears, it tells you so much but without something it doesn’t tell you quite everything. All that will change soon I imagine.
Another car passes, a squeak of brakes as they pull up. I don’t know what model it is but I know it’s not one of those crazy little Piaggio vans that splutter around all of Italy, their two stroke engines spewing unburnt fuel and traces of oil in to the otherwise sweet air.
Another car, a horn declaring impatiently that the driver is ready. It must be nearly 8. So much activity.
|Contrary Kettle ;-)|
All of this reminds me of me of other places I’ve spent time. In Barnes I used to know when it was 4:30 as the first flight of the day would roar overhead as the plane descended in to Heathrow after a long trip from Hong Kong. I came to wake just before the plane arrived and if I did and the plane was silent I’d worry about there being a few hundred Chinese people floating lifelessly in the sea. My head really can think stupid things. At home in Contrary Towers I place value on the activity of cars with precision being added by the refuse lorries. All these sounds conspiring to build an image of the world, an image it takes a while to construct, but once you do it adds to the comforting rhythm of the day.
Time for tea!