Lots of stuff happening and nothing much either. We changed our ISP so that means I have do one of those mass mails and because I’m me, I can’t imagine doing a simple “Address changed” one. If you’re in my address book, I promise to try and make you smile. If I don’t succeed, don’t tell me.
On the home front, it’s the Battle of the Birds all over again. We went up from 7 to 13. That’s thirteen, with a thir. And then we did the unthinkable. We stopped feeding them. And really, as heart-rending as it was, it worked. For all of them, except the original two.
Momma and Poppa bird have taken residence on my window. And it’s not even the one I used to put out seeds on. One of them sits on the internet cable that runs from my window to the roof and the other sits on the sill. And my mother can’t stand it.
So she finally decided to take matters into her own hand and barricaded the window with dark plastic and cardboard and anything else she could find that could be taped to the wall. The result? My small patch of sky is gone! The little view I had of the occasional cloud and stray sunbeam. Gone! The gentle breeze that used to carry over wafts from the neighbour’s cooking pots. Gone! The very pale pre-dawn light that used to indicate that night was turning to day and I should get to bed. Gone! The dirty yellow and faded grey skies that would tell me when to expect rain. Gone! Gone! Gone!
Now I have to turn on the fluorescent lights at 9 in the morning just to see where the computer is. It was bad enough being imprisoned behind shuttered glass and grills, but to have my patch of sky taken away. It’s tragic. And by the way, the birds are still there.
See, because the windows don’t open up completely, we can’t reach the far end of the sill to cover it up, and on that little tiny bit of uncovered stone, the pigeon struggles all night to find a claw-hold – I can hear her slip and flutter – but she (somehow I think it’s the Momma – only a female could be this resilient) insists on sleeping there, with the Poppa sitting above her in respectful guard. I think he gets a better deal, despite the shaky cable.
Ah well, my mother will conquer them. She always does in the end. And I’ll be sure to make a post about it.
On to other things. My hols are coming along nicely and very fruitfully too. I’ve managed to put the college magazine behind me, and I’ve got back on the kid’s one too. Just editing, nothing else, which suits me fine. I cleaned up my room completely and got rid of about 5 boxes of assorted junk: books, items to return to people, scrap I’ll never use, old clothes. I can’t believe how much I’ve managed to collect in just a few years. I think I probably have another three boxes worth I can easily get rid of – but I’m taking a break for now.
Cleaning was fun though. I found old pieces of writing that brought back vivid (and sometimes embarrassing) memories – which only reminded me how powerful words can be. I discovered a whole treasure-load of books I had collected to read ‘someday’ that I never got around to, and now they line the shelf next to my bed so I can make sure I do read them.
I have African writers, American writers, British writers, Russian writers, Indian writers, dead writers, very-much-alive writers, fiction, non-fiction, books that smell like they just came fresh-off-the-presses and crackle when you turn the page for the very first time and books that smell like musty old people and fall apart when you simply finger the edges of their covers. Are you drooling yet? Don’t worry, when I first set eyes on the sorted out shelf, I had to reach for a hanky too.
So a week and a half left and things are well. Actually make that swell.