tales from an ordinary world

2000-12-11

6:45 on a Monday morning, there's a girl on the tram who looks not unlike my sister (apart from the Royal Elastics, perhaps) sitting in the seat where I'd normally sit, writing in some little book of hers about whatever it is that people on the tram think about at 6:45. Someone else is doing the same thing. Others get on and read the newspaper. By the time I get off, it's reached that nice pre-peak equilibrium - just comfortably full.

There's a lucid feel to this particular morning, the getting up and going to work routine etched so firmly into my impulses that my brain doesn't need to get involved particularly much, apart from vague sanity checks.

I get the office to myself for an hour. My PC's fan is making a sick buzzing noise, not unlike a largish housefly.