Hymn

Flight

Of course I was rushing.  The incessant caw-cawing from the garden made me look out as I was changing.  On the grass, Cat sat, paw lazily resting on small brown ball.  I know it’s only nature but sometimes I can’t just let it be.  When I reach the lawn, I’m met by a proud and satisfied meow.  And not one but two crumpled sparrows.  Both are still alive.  The bird under paws is more frisky; the one to the side more still, it pants pathetically, eyes half closed.  How Cat caught two birds so close together escapes me. 

Cat looks at me confused and disappointed as I grab him by the scruff of the neck.  No.  I’m not pleased.  The unpinned sparrow makes a break for it but still dazed only makes it to the conifer bush.  I pause, hoping that the bird will somehow make it through the hedge and into the relative safety of dog-patrolled next door. (Do dogs catch sparrows?)  On release, Cat flies into undergrowth in pursuit. The feeble creature still lies collapsed on the grass.  I fetch a spade to end its misery.  Do living things know that death is coming?  Does their survival instinct detect the End and fight it unceasingly? I’m not keen on killing things, even in mercy; perhaps it was my half-heartedness that roused the bird from its stupor.  It didn’t quite flutter but it did sort of roll.  Cat, however, cannot be seen.  The frantic rustling in the bush suggests an unsuccessful escape.  Typical I’ve condemned the Possible and saved the No Hoper.

I’m not entirely sure what to do with the thing and its silent pathetic tweeting in my hand.  I hold it and hear myself whispering gently to it, urging it to calm its thumping heart, regain its strength and rediscover its will to live.

In the bushes to my side, the chase continues.  The bird in my hand doesn’t feel like two in the bush and I determine to attempt another rescue.  The opposite fence and the relative safety of another garden is as far from Cat as I can find.  Now the little fella decides he doesn’t want to leave and with unexpected strength grips my finger with his feet.  This is ridiculous – I am delicately wrestling a near dead sparrow off my hand.  Eventually, and as gently as possible, I have prised his claws away and rest him on the safety of the fence.  He wobbles slightly before falling into next doors garden and landing the soft thud of a saltcellar hitting a thick pile carpet.

As I’m about to leave, I check the garden once more.  Close to the patio doors, I see Cat trying to catch a brown ball of feathers.  To my untold admiration, another sparrow (Parent? Partner? Concerned member of the public?) is swooping violently at Cat.  It’s a wild and hopeless show of bravery and deeply moving. 

As I drag Cat into the house I lose sight of the birds.  With the predator safely contained, the sparrows make their miraculous escape and I leave to catch my own flight.

Evolution

I can’t remember ever being this bored.  Excruciatingly bored.   I’m not so much waiting for paint to dry as waiting for the brush and tin to evolve.

Sinking Feeling

I think I’m losing my grip.  This afternoon, driving home, a song from an old album reduced me to tears.  Not gentle weeping but stomach-wrenching sobs.  It’s a song not heard for years and not about lovers, no it’s about a battleship sacrificing itself to save a passenger liner. Definitely losing it.

Cat got your tongue

Pah Humbug! I’m sure that as I get older, I’m growing more curmudgeonly.  Tonight as I sat in the study, my peace was disturbed by the sound of squealing children outside.   As I stood up, I saw the little girl from next door chasing after my cat – as if the poor thing wasn’t scared enough by their newly acquired dog.  I was so shocked that they had gone before I was really cross and now I’m in a dilemma.  I know that the best, the only, way to deal with it is to catch her red-handed but that hasn’t stopped me from wanting to jump up and down and scream madly. Now I’m just seething and hiding behind curtains in wait.  Hours are passing, days blurring into nights, but still I’m waiting... 

Ringing

Why in Heaven’s name do people persist in using mobile phones on trains?  It is worse than being impossible: it is occasionally impossible.  The pain of hearing the conversation start with “I’m on the train” then stop with the words “Hello?  I’m in a tunnel. I can’t hear you. Hello?  Hello?” is enough to make my ears bleed.  And when for the third time, I hear, “Sorry, we were cut off.” It’s about as much as I can do not to throw their bloody phone out of the non-opening windows.

Priceless

Tonight I was able to give an almost perfect gift – a preview screening to a lifelong fan.  And to see him identify the face behind a voice was most impressive. It was a real joy to see him grinning like a boy for simply being in the presence of those technicians.  To me if was a freebie, to him, priceless.

At Sea

It’s peculiar for me, after so many years in a intimate office, to suddenly find myself adrift in acres of Open Plan.  Anonymous desks stretch away from me in every direction and bobbing heads ripple back and forth as anyone moves across the surface.

Dream

I dreamt of being at an airfield; ready to jump.  As I walked out to the plane I watched in horror as a close friend (although I did not recognise him) plummeted to Earth, parachute unopened.  I was one of the first to reach his crumpled body and, distraught, shouted instructions for a needless ambulance.  As we stood there waiting, his eyes flickered then opened.  He woke as though merely stunned and, with the help of strangers, got to his feet completely unscathed.

Next, I found myself inside in a room with a very tall ceiling.  There was some sort of show in which I was involved.  One of the other performers was upset but embarked on an elaborate and impressive gymnastic dance over the central tower of rocks-like structure.  At the top, and with deliberate care, she launched herself off into the air.  The girl landed head-first on the rocky moat below.  I ran to her, shocked and upset.  She lay crushed but unblemished.  Moments later and accompanied by family and friends, I watched her float to us on a funeral barge.  As she drew level with us, she opened her eyes and smiled.  She sat up and was completely unharmed.

Finally, but much later I was feeling alone and miserable as a circus acrobat.  I felt dejected and incapable and unable to continue.  My performing partner had decided to leave and I could not cope.  He told me “He was not from this world.” But as I turned away he joined me and together we somersaulted and cart-wheeled through the packed and rainy streets of New York.  I did not notice him disappear but carried on joyfully on my own.