Sunday 03 January
It has been a largely bleak day weather-wise. Cold drizzle, freshening breeze from the northeast and only a dash of sunshine first thing this morning.
The fall out of the past 48 hours, and the government’s incapability to make firm decisions continued today. Some staff, parents and pupils are nervous to return. The National Education Union has sent a template letter to its members to send to their Headteachers saying that they do not believe schools to be safe enough to work in.
But for me, the greatest frustration is the UK government’s inconsistent decisions and delayed actions, alongside the lack of data and evidence to (not) back up their messages. Not to mention the seeming lack of understanding of the inevitable.
The other devolved nations of the UK made up their minds weeks ago about what the new term would look like from day 1, week 1 and week 2. Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland have all set out the difficult truth they perceive will greet us all after the Christmas and New Year break. They have all delayed the full reopening of schools providing clarity, even if it’s not what many people wanted to hear. Here in England, however, we are still unsure this evening, the day before we return.
After our walk this afternoon, I went to see Dad. He was just about to have a Skype call and was looking forward to having a bacon sandwich for his supper. A real bacon sandwich, not puréed. I no longer take eating proper food for granted.
He received another negative test yesterday and so is all clear to visit Mum in the care home this week. Things are looking really good at the moment.
Earlier this morning, I was watching a flock of Fieldfare (Turdus pilaris) perched in the big silver birch tree at the bottom of our garden. It was great to see, I believe, some Redwing (Turdus iliacus) too.
Both are thrushes and both are winter visitors to our shores from Scandinavia and Iceland. The Latin family name for Thrush is Turdus; childish, I know, but still quite amusing. They love the berries from the Hawthorne which are abundant around us. And both birds, but the Redwing in particular, has a penchant for the windfall apples that are mushing in the cold and wet grass under the trees in the orchard.
And the birds continue to be my calm companions throughout all of this madness. They continue to remain unphased by the craziness of it all, just going about their business. The robin flits along the hedgerows where we walk, the seagull drifts overhead and the orchard flocks of species ‘Turdus’ keep growing in numbers.
I even saw one of my summer acquaintances, the Buzzard in the fading light of this afternoon. It was sat regally on the top of a telegraph pole on the lane. It stepped off its perch and fell, gathering enough speed to reach the line of Poplar trees separating two fields. “I have two of your old feathers,” I thought to myself as I drove by.
The Bald Birder 