Magpies - One for Sorrow, Two for Joy

One for sorrow, two for joy. There they are again, on the fence, eyeing up the bird-feeders, the cheeky pair. They were going for it the other day, standing on the top of the frame from where they were able to peck at the fat-balls then stretching to the seed holders to steal from them. Stealing it is, because those feeders are for sparrows. By the time I’ve stood up from my chair, they’ve flown home to next door’s tree.

Over the weekend I was tidying the back garden and making space to plant some winter flowering pansies. For once it was quiet. Usually there’s someone nearby with a lawn-mower or strimmer, or noisy DIY going on and there’s always sirens. We are close to the hospital, the M55, the main police headquarters and a fire station. The sirens are really annoying but not as irritating as the sound of the magpies. The afternoon was pleasantly warm and the air was still. I wanted to do as much as I could before my knees and upper legs surrendered. Soon the magpies kicked off with loud, rattly chak chak chakking. It’s a horrible noise and I think they do it on purpose when they see me come outside. I did what I needed to do as quickly as I could. Next door’s tree is a well-established sycamore and I’m sure it is a housing estate for a massive conventicle of magpies or at least the overspill from the trees around nearby Lawson’s Field.

Magpies have an attractive plumage of black and white with a wide stripe of navy blue which is beautifully vibrant in sunlight. They are predators of bird’s eggs and nestlings which they will kill to feed their young. Nice looking but nasty creatures which also carry superstition. I don’t like to see just one on its own and have to mutter “Good day, Mr Magpie” and hope for another to show up. Apparently, in China they are thought to bring good luck.

In my early teens I used to enjoy ‘Magpie’, the TV show. I’ve read that it was a rival to Blue Peter. I don’t remember it being anything like Blue Peter. I found it entertaining and informative aimed at slightly older kids, which is probably what appealed to me. And it had the rhyme we all know for a signature tune. Join in.

One for sorrow
Two for joy,
Three for a girl
Four for a boy.
Five for silver
Six for gold
Seven for a secret
Never to be told.
Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten for a bird
You must not miss.
Magpie.

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Silence - It's Not Always Golden

Like most people I guess I’m a bit of a mixture when it comes to silence. Some might say I have no idea what the word means. I’m rarely quiet for very long when in company. I’ve seen my companions’ eyes glaze over as I enter the tenth minute of a story that should have been completed in seconds. In fact, even my daughter, who I thought relished my tales, admitted recently that she can’t listen to anybody for more than a couple of minutes: she becomes irritated and restless. That got me told, and also explained a lot about her school reports. But I digress. I love to chat, I also love to hear other people’s tales. I’m curious - sit me down, give me a brew and then tell me everything about yourself.  Don’t pause though, or I’ll fill that void. Silences in conversation make me anxious, and I just can’t let that happen. Feel free to interrupt and continue. Hesitate and the floor’s all mine. 

I was thinking about this chatting lark. I know exactly where it came from: my grandma, who could talk for England. Her favourite subject was, ‘The Aunts at Yarmouth,’ who were her sisters. Two nasty, selfish, mean old spinsters, according to grandma. She could reel off a long list of ways in which she had been slighted by them over the years. My uncle once got her onto the subject and recorded the diatribe, whist my granddad tried desperately to steer the conversation away from the aunts. I still have the recording and it continues to make me laugh. As she got older and her hearing and health began to deteriorate, she became much quieter, just sitting on the sofa and looking rather puzzled as conversations swirled around her. 

I said I’m a bit of a mixture where silence is concerned. There are specific situations where I relish the silence and others where I can’t bear it, not just within conversations, but also inside the home. I’ve suffered with depression for many years and when it was at its worst I couldn’t bear a silent house. Maybe it was the fact that I had three young children and constant noise was the result, but if I was ever in alone at home the first thing I did was switch on the radio. I still do it now. I also realised, quite recently, that I hum and whistle constantly, my mum and dad did the same.  I think it’s just another way of filling that void and blocking out the silence.

However, when my children were babies I craved peace from their crying, shouting, screaming and whiny demands. With my first born I was obsessed with silence when he went to bed.  Woe betide anybody knocking at the door or phoning on the big loud landline.  By the time it got to baby number three I was much more relaxed.  They'd have to sleep through dinner parties (which were all the rage in the 80s), loud music, frantic hoovering, and food mixers going full blast. They either slept through or I didn't hear them due to the above.  Either way, we all survived.

Alone in nature, silence is my preference.  No music, no audiobooks, no distractions, just tiny natural noises in the background; birds, trees, gentle seas, a light breeze. Just perfect.  Everything slows down, my heart beat, my breathing, my thoughts.  It's just one way to recharge the batteries - a cliche, but true.

Silence - In Its Place  by Jill Reidy

Silence is golden 

So they say

But when you have a head 

Full of buzzing

Of thoughts that swirl and repeat 

And do it all again  

Bore into your brain

To tell you things to you didn’t want to hear

Then chase them out

With mindless music

Numbing News 

And puerile comments 

From presenters who know 

Nothing of your pain 

But will fill your head with noise 

And solve the problem for a while.

Emerge from that, and venture out

Where you have to strain your ears 

To hear the slightest sound

Nature, pure and simple

Gentle cooing of a pair of birds

Leaves like butterflies in a lazy breeze

Slow the heart and soothe the soul

And sometimes, not often

Total Silence

Bliss

Thanks for reading.....Jill 

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Silence - I'll Settle for Quiet

“Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence.”  (From Desiderata by Max Ehrmann, 1927)

How refreshing it feels just to be quiet with no distraction. I like to have the radio or a CD on, but sometimes it’s good not to bother and go about my housework duties in silent prayer or lost in my thoughts. My thoughts are bordering on torturous at the moment. A mini crisis which I needn’t bore you with and I’m sure it will blow over with some self-counselling and a quiet word above.

The place that offers the most silence is our favourite lodge in Dumfries & Galloway. Off the beaten track, hidden by trees and foliage, any sounds come from nature – and the fridge thermostat kicking in – owls, foxes, deer and the ripple of the nearby stream. Dare I believe that we’ll be there in just a few short weeks? Recently arranged and neatly in line with my retirement, we will sample summer time at the lodge. Very rare, we’re usually out of season visitors, but very welcome after lockdown.

The back garden offers tranquillity, depending on the day or time. The sheltered side, nice for a quiet read, never on a Sunday, though. Someone in the neighbourhood will fire up their lawn mower, strimmer or electric hedge cutter and kill the moment. No one around here has a massive garden, so what takes hours with some extra loud machine, I do not know. Someone else nearby likes to entertain outside and after winter and lockdown, it is clearly back on the agenda. Raucous laughter, which we hadn’t missed, and, I am told, the smell of a barbecue was apparent at the weekend. The best time to sit out is on a week day during school hours, until the boy across the back comes home and starts kicking his football against their wooden fence. They have to start somewhere, bless him.

At work, we hear the sound of silence at the end of the day when the fluorescent lights are switched off and the high-speed drills stop buzzing in our ears.  It isn’t my domain but there is something I find peaceful about a spotless, empty surgery, prepared for the next day. I accept that I’m a strange one. Somewhere a phone will ring and an answer-phone will take a message. I won’t miss much of this.

I am happy to fill my house with the noise of four lively grandchildren coming to tea, make sure they have fun and enough to eat and enjoy the peace and quiet when they’ve gone home.

My Haikus:

My washing machine
Is torture to all ear-drums
When it’s in a spin.

Stressed and troubled, then,
When dental drills stop whining
Serenity calms.

When the noise has gone
And there’s a moment to think
About what makes peace.

Hushed in the darkness
The unsettled baby girl
Loved and nursed by me.

PMW 2021

Thanks for reading, keep well. Pam x

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This is Your Time

When you are part of a large, loving, extended family, as I am, solitude can sometimes be a pretty hard state to achieve.  

Don’t get me wrong, I love the family gatherings with the laughter, the tears, the arguments, the music, the dancing, the spilt drinks, the chocolate melted on the sofa, the general craziness of getting together with family members from one to ninety one.  I love each and every one of them and I revel in their company, both individually or in a group.  I love the fact that my own children, their other halves and the grandchildren all live within about ten minutes of our house, and I’m happy that they know they can call in at any time - and they do.  To me, that’s what family is all about.  And when family isn’t around then there are friends to fill the space.  Our home has always been an open house.

However, much as I love the company of others, I am also very happy to spend time alone.  In fact, more than happy.  I love it.

My periods of solitude might be few and far between but that just makes them all the more precious.  Sometimes they come about by accident - a little voice calls out, “Bye, grandma,” the front door closes and all is quiet.  I sit in total silence, memories of a frantic afternoon are stored and peace descends.  Like a blanket, it envelopes me, as my mind slows and clears.  This is bliss, the total opposite of the mad few hours we’ve been enjoying, although that, in itself, is a different kind of happiness.  Sometimes my periods of solitude are planned: an hour on the bed, reading, snuggled under the covers; a brisk walk along the prom, just my thoughts to accompany me; an afternoon on the computer, editing photos. 

I’m sure, if I lived alone, with no family or friends, then the solitude that I now enjoy could well become a pain and not a pleasure:  a prison of loneliness.  The ticking of a clock, the drone of the TV, cars on the road outside - these background sounds would only serve to emphasise the fact that I was alone, and not by choice.  Thankfully, solitude is still a treat for me.  As a photographer, time alone with my camera is something I relish.  I become distracted if shooting with someone else.  Much as I love to chat, I find my best shots are those where my eye has been allowed to wander and focus without the distraction of conversation.  My mind will wander too, thoughts of where I’m going, what I’m aiming for, what are the optimum settings, where is the next capture likely to be?  This is my idea of heaven.

And then, home to the husband, a cup of tea, a chat about the day.  And possibly a room full of children....

As I walked along the prom this morning I was thinking about the subject of solitude, when I spotted this man and his dog, away from everyone and everything.  Now, that's solitude.

This is Your Time by Jill Reidy 

Find a quiet place

In or out

It doesn't matter

Add a blanket 

Or a coat if out

Gloves, hat, scarf

Whatever keeps you warm

Check head is clear

Thoughts are flowing

View is restful

No interruptions

Ignore the clock

The screeching of the gulls

You're on your own now

This is your time....

Whilst researching the subject, I came across this quote, and decided it was written specifically for me.  

'Solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine.' 
― Honoré de Balzac

Thanks for reading, Jill

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Interruptions & Love

Dear Boy Poet,

Last night, after you'd returned from work, you dropped your backpack

in the middle of my writing space. You pulled off your shoes,

and began to retell your day with a loudness I'm still not used to.

The ideas and half-formed lines (from an afternoon of silence)

fell like glass marbles.

Later, on the computer, you typed a new poem. I listen

to the speed of the tapping and know you've found that zone

which so often seems to evade me.

And, for a moment, I am jealous and resenting...   

This morning, I eased myself away from your warmth, quietly

made black coffee and settled back into thinking.

At seven your alarm began to cycle through those sounds

(specifically chosen to force you from our bed).

By half past, you've pressed the snooze button six times

and I'm forced to leave my thoughts behind

to wake you.

Our differences sometimes cause us to clash,

but our similarities always bring resolution.

For every time you have made a picnic, coaxed me

into the car and taken me to a place that allows my mind

to breath - I thank you.

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