Tag Archives: isolation

22 July: A kerfuffle in Canterbury

We were about to sit down to a family lunch in the garden, with all the furniture arranged for social distancing, when there was a mighty clamour from the roof of next-door-but-one. That roof has a hole, some 20cm square, where a tile has fallen. This has been a godsend to the sparrows who seem to be on the increase locally; they’ve moved back into a hole under our eaves which was abandoned for a few years and found a new spot at the back of our house. Two sparrows in particular are tame enough to come near to our al fresco table and suggest that we might spare a crumb. How could we say no?

It turned out that the racket on the roof was from the combined forces of sparrows and starlings, combining to chase away a pair of magpies who were taking too close an interest in the hole in the roof. The magpies left the scene, apparently empty-beaked, and life seemed to return to normal for the little birds.

Except that there was a little chick, still flightless, struggling at the edge of the garden pond. With wet feathers it was becoming more difficult to get out, till Mrs T stretched out her arm and pulled the sorry sodden sparrowlet to safety. The little fellow seemed to know that safety lay in camouflage, hiding in the herbaceous border, but loud ‘feed me’ chirps told us he was still around. The danger from cats has diminished.

I think the sparrow may have been involved in the magpie incident, perhaps pulled out of the nest but dropped to the ground as the bigger birds fled. Let’s hope his devoted parents’ efforts to feed him in hiding were enough to bring him to the joys of flight!

And may we find ways to bring joy to those who have been hiding away from the Corona Virus.


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20 January: Inter-galactic Discoveries, XXI.

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14 June, Year of Mercy: Fearful Entrances.

mercylogoLife in the multicultural streets of East London can be intriguing and exciting. For some it will be daunting or even frightening. They want their little house to feel like a safe fortress, and the entrance to be thoroughly guarded against the unplanned incursions of strangers and unwanted callers. Grilles and locks are occasionally applied to windows and porches to let every passerby know that few of them would be welcome.

No doubt there are some immigrant groups whose members are made to feel uncomfortable, at an early point after their arrival. Perhaps no one has ever helped them to feel befriended. Nevertheless there is something sad, it seems to me, about a home that can only survive in these conditions, claustrophobic and ever on the watch.

I grew up on an immigrant street, with neighbours from Trinidad, Pakistan, Yugoslavia and elsewhere. My father, who was self-employed, would quite often deliberately spend an hour in the morning before he began his work, sitting on the front steps, chatting with anyone who came past. Not everyone was as sociable and outgoing as he was, but surviving the War meant for him that we should appreciate all the diversity of human interactions. Real sociable existence depends on our creating trust.

It is possible to travel regularly in our modern cities, and be surrounded by people wearing head-phones, their faces buried in some electronic device. A great deal will be lost if we forget the gift of dynamic interactions and supportive friendship.

CD.

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