Ooh devil day

I sit at my computer typing, the sunlight falling through the open balcony door. Outside the pansies wait to be planted and the daffs and crocuses sway in the slight breeze. A bird twitters, probably boasting about how much of my heather he (or she) has stuffed into his (or her) nest, and I don't even feel like throwing anything at it. Birds need my heather more than I do.

I go to the sink and start washing up, half listening to the radio that emits a steady stream of this strange language. A woman, a man, a group of laughing people, all speaking with szs and trzs, a stream of what used to be a blur of incomprehensible zeds that has now sorted itself out into recognisable words, and words I might not know, but can identify.

Someone walks through the courtyard and I hear her cough, then a faraway siren cuts through the quiet, reminding me of the city all around. I drain the rest of my tea, check the clock and see that I have to leave for work.

A shame, as there's nowhere I'd rather be right now, but in my Warsaw flat on a sunny morning. Even if it is Friday the 13th.