Day 157

Monday 24 August

I normally compile my posts at various points throughout the day. Something happens or pops in my head and I make a note of it. But today, I have come to a completely blank space just minutes before midnight. I feel a bit pressured, that I’ve let myself down somehow. A very odd feeling. But today has been a day where my thoughts have been very much focussed on returning to work next week. I am reviewing our risk assessment in readiness for reopeing the school fully, to all pupils and to all staff. With minimal clear instruction from the government, I feel confident that we, at least, are applying the scientific advice to what the DfE has published and filling in any gaps with a good dollop of common sense. We will see.

Earlier today, my brother sent me a message to say that there was a programme on BBC Radio 3 this evening that I may be interested in. I love the radio, and for a while, thought it was a generational thing that would die out with the distractions of Youtube and social media. But, it would seem that listening to the spoken word has never been more popular. Podcasts have done much to promote this resurgence as has talking books via platforms like Audible. The new BBC Sounds app is excellent.

For me, lockdown and the impact of this past couple of years has changed my listening habits. I find listening to BBC Five Live now very boring and uninspiring. I used to listen to it all of the time, especially the football, but also the news and opinion. That would be my late night ritual before bed when the house was asleep and quiet.

But my brain no longer wants to hear this sensationalist, ‘fast-food’ audio. A friend of mine once referred to Five Live as ‘tabloid radio’ – he was spot on. Now it’s Radio 4, Classic FM and Radio X (my son introduced me to the last one). Ok, so I have to cope with the adverts but that’s ok, for the moment. I guess I am conscious that I don’t want to waste my time listening to sports people gibbering, and politicians patronising the listener and lying. I still love sport, politics and current affairs – and I guess that’s why I want a different experience.

So, back to this programme recommended by my brother. The Essay, this evening on Radio 3. What a remarkable programme. The presenter, a sound recordist for the BBC’s nature team is sharing his recordings of birdsong throughout the weeks and months of lockdown, and has added a wonderful lilting north-eastern dialogue to them. This first episode of five has focussed on the sound of the May dawn chorus from his back garden in Northumberland.

It made me happy on the most part but quite melancholic afterwards. The sounds of the full ensemble of feathered songsters got to their perches and let rip. Why sad? Well, because I really miss the month of May and the sound of the birds. I really miss it. It has made my insides fall with a slight jolt; like when a teenage relationship ends or great book I’m reading reaches the final chapter. And this year in particular, I have personally heard the best birdsong-filled mornings and evenings ever.

The evenings are beginning to draw in a little now, and the weather is taking a turn for the worse. The start of autumn is now nearer than the first-day of summer. Spring feels a long time back and the sound of the birds on the radio is starting to retreat as a tinny echo as it drifts off into the past.

But, I must always remember that by the time we put the clocks back, the start of the next spring will be nearer than the start of the last. I am going to make next spring a season of birdsong to remember – I have risen early enough to get to some woodland and listen to the first soloist kick things off. I will next spring.

So, thank-you, Bro, for sharing that programme with me. I am going listen to them all (multiple times I am sure) and remember how inspiring a time lockdown was for some of us. The simplicity of our beloved birdsong, that we do tend to take for granted, is what inspired this blog. To appreciate what is right there, in front of us, on our doorstep, if we would only take time to listen.

When Autumn blows in and Winter snaps around me, I will listen out for our Robins, Blackbirds and Fieldfares. I pledge to stop, take a deep breath, and properly listen. I pledge to never take their beautiful, simply-complex sounds for granted again.