The Bald Birder

Day 280

Friday 25 December
Christmas Day

It’s Christmas Day. We woke around 6am and I came downstairs to make a cup of tea for me and Lisa. The stockings were there on the floor infront of the fire place and the kids were still asleep.

But it didn’t take long before Adora’s bedroom door handle rattled and she knocked on our door arms waving with festive excitement. We had drunk about half of our tea.

So, downstairs to the front room, carols from King’s College playing in the background. Adora had made coffee, Mabel was even more excited than she was. The kids sat on the floor surrounded by presents wrapped in two different paper styles to distinguish them under the tree. First, we do the stockings, taking it in turns, then the presents. It’s fabulous how some traditions come with you from your own childhood and family ways, others you make yourself.

Last night we opened our charity shop gifts after dinner at the table. We had taken a name and had to buy a present for them. It was a nice thing to do and we will do it each year from now on.

One of my favourite Christmas songs is Greg Lake’s I Believe in Father Christmas. It was written by him with words by Peter Subfield and was written as a protest to the commercialisation of the festive holiday. I was five years old when it was released and do remember it appearing on top of the pops in the yeras that followed. I love that Sinfield referred to it as “a picture postcard Christmas, with morbid edges.” And as I get older I find that Christmas feels like that, the innocence of it through child’s eyes has been clouded by the reality of the cost, over indulgence and waste. I still love it but not in the same way.

Our neighbour dropped a Christmas card through the door yesterday evening, along with some sprigs of mistletoe. In the envelope were two Buzzard feathers, they are beautiful and so light and the softest of all the primaries I have. For such a large bird to soar on thermals, they would need to be. In the middle of winter, I was transported back to the summer and the posts I made of watching these amazing birds above our house and over the orchards. Although they rarely leave these shores in the winter they do keep a much lower profile. I miss them.

After a fabulous dinner, outside for a walk and the sunshine. Cold and crisp.

A look backwards down the lane on our walk this afternoon. We are lucky. I see the moon, the moon sees me.

Reflections on the day. So, it’s certainly been a weird one. We ate Christmas dinner, for the first time as a gang of four. We walked the lanes as if it was any other day. Wearing a face mask, I took a foil wrapped dinner to Dad this evening for him to eat on his own. Lisa’s family came over for part of the evening, there were times when it felt almost normal, but there was that persistent realisation to maintain social distancing and no hugs.

But the most poignant for me, was when I wrote the gift tags for my the kids presents that Dad gave me to give yesterday. “Dear Stan/Adora, Happy Christmas from Grandad” and I very nearly forgot to add “Nanny” too. It brought a lump to my throat. I guess it all comes with being fifty and growing up, again.

Day 279

Thursday 24 December
Christmas Eve

It’s Christmas Eve, probably my favourite day of the season, there is so much anticipation. Everything closes after today, at least it used to when I was younger. There was always a buzz around town as people panicked and made crazy decisions, purchasing last minute gifts.

When I was little, around junior school age, I lived in Devon. What was then, a small town called Ivybridge, not far from Plymouth. In the cul-de-sac where we lived, the parents would give a present for their children to a neighbour who owned a farm and a donkey. The father of that family would dress as Father Christmas, and with some help would walk the donkey from door-to-door handing the presents to the children on the evening of Christmas Eve.

One night I remember clearly. Father Christmas’ suit was so red, the sky was ink black, but it was snowing. The panier sacks on the donkey were bulging and the tinsel around its reins were gold and silver. I couldn’t say what my present was, I wasn’t important enough to remember. It was the moment that was magical, and my heart swells now just thinking about it. Not every Christmas was that magical, I have had one in particular that was the polar opposite. But I had that one, it stayed with me, and that’s what matters.

Then, in my late teens, twenties and thirties, there was the pub. Such a great atmosphere, so much nicer than New Year’s Eve. And cheaper. And as I’ve got older, and the kids have come along, the excitement baton is handed on – as it should be. The kids are still excited about the big day, albeit this year we will be eating on our own, just the four of us. And this year, Adora is cooking Christmas lunch for the first time. Amazing kid.

2012, and the kids get the Christmas Eve tingle of excitement.

And right now, I am sitting in the front room having read the MR James ghost story that is being televised later this evening. A long standing tradition on Christmas Eve to have a ghostly tale or two on telly. There must be ghosts on Christmas Eve; past, present and yet to be.

The wood burner is blazing and has warmed up it’s iron carcus. My second glass of negroni cocktail has nicely warmed my carcus too, and the tub if cheese footballs have finally been opened.

All of the chores are done.

The whole of the south east of England will be in Tier 4 of lockdown come Boxing Day but I think most of the UK are starting their self-imposed lockdowns today. Oh, and a Brexit deal has been done. I don’t really care right now.

Negroni, family, peace, ghost stories, cheese footballs, wood burner, carols on the radio, lights. They’re all that matters to me right here, right now.

Next year? Who knows? Happy Christmas.

Day 278

Wednesday 23 December

“Why don’t scientists trust atoms?”

“Because they make up everything.”

It’s the time of year for cheesy jokes from Christmas crackers and this is one of the worst.

Hawthorn berries, damaged by frost and dripping wet with a little drop of miracle hanging of each one.

But out on our walk this afternoon there was the opportunity to marvel at the power of different elements coming together to make something special happen. It’s the same with colourful paints in tubes, on their own they are simply that – tubes of paint. But when they are combined with each other, in the right amounts and in the right places, magic happens.

So, it had rained for most of the day. When it wasn’t raining it was dense fog. At one point, I looked at the clock thinking the early morning was taking an age to get through, it was midday. It was so dark pretty much all day.

But then the clouds peeled apart form each other towards the end of the afternoon. So we took the dog out. Just around our local lanes.

I had never seen one of these before. A splodge of rainbow. What’s that actually called?

I couldn’t resist seeing the droplets of water hanging on the ends of twigs or pooling in cupped, decaying leaves on the ground. Two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom, squirted out of their tubes and mixed on the canvas, et voilà! Water. Loads of it. And where the sun shines on it, it either reflects and glistens like diamonds or it refracts and disperses to create rainbows. A simple combination of atoms, a multitude of magical results.

Day 277

Tuesday 22 December

Whilst walking around our local lanes this afternoon, Adora came up with her six word story. “Scarlet splashes, frosted glass, laughter heard.” Pretty macabre on first read and, indeed, when she explained her original thinking. But then we chatted about the possible plots and scenarios that could be born from just those six words. Good fun.

Whilst walking we collected branches of holly, ivy, rosehip and fir. These became arrangements for the door and tables when we got home. My wife is very talented.

I have purposely avoided the news today. I probably overdosed on it over the past week or two. Situations changing by the hour over the last few days. Brexit, the Coronavirus, blockades at the port of Dover, flights cancelled as borders close to planes leaving the UK. The sky remains grey and the temperature mild – a reminder that we also have a global climate emergency too.

I could spend (and have spent) hours watching, listening and reading about all of the above. It’s too much. So, this morning I finished the first jigsaw of the season and checked my work phone for any calls or emails telling me that there is a case of Covid19 with staff or pupils.

Then a dog walk and some fresh air. My cold is on its way out thankfully, so it’s not Coronavirus. Mulled cider and cold and flu tablets kept the worst at bay whilst nature fought it off. Stan has it now though and we hope it will be gone before Christmas Eve. There’s a real sense of deflation about this year’s festivities. No one really has much of a drive to enjoy it all, let alone work hard to make it happen. We will have immediate family round on Christmas Day evening for a drink and a sandwich. But that’s it.

Day 276

Monday 21 December

It’s the winter solstice today. The shortest daylight day of the year. In itself, I find that pretty sad but then, it means that everyday from tomorrow onwards lengthens slightly in daylight. Next stop, spring.

Six words, forming a story, is a format inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s tale “For sale: baby shoes, never worn,” And in these trying times, a number of folk, famous and not so famous alike, have written their own in an attempt at focussing on their own positive thoughts and experiences.

“Midwinter Miracle, Blackbird Song At Dawn” – was Monty Don’s creation. This talked to me, particularly as I had a blackbird song experience the other morning leaving for work. Many of them have left these shores for the winter but many also stay put, wintering in the UK.

“Renewed Appreciation For What’s Actually Important” – was shared by a key worker trying to remain positive under the greatest pressure they have ever experienced.

“Memories and sunshine feed our spirit.” I really like this one from a person in the US. They have had to deal with not only a badly mismanaged Coronavirus, but also a painful presidential election.

Thinking of happier days gone by and the potential of sunshine yet to come is really all we have to feed our spirits right now.

I’ve been trying to write my own but finding it very difficult. There’s a danger of it becoming some cheesy affirmation for our time. “I’ll give it some thought tomorrow.”

Day 275

Sunday 20 December

I woke up feeling under the weather. I knew rationally that this was just a common cold but in the current situation you can’t help but think it may be Coronavirus.

Mabel gets a haircut tomorrow, and this scene cheered me up this evening.

The morning was spent being very lazy and counting down the hours before my football match. It was the first game I had refereed at this particular venue and I was glad that the game was going ahead. The other game I was scheduled to do had already been cancelled due to fears of the virus from parents.

The game I did do, an under eighteens game, was played out under clear afternoon skies with bright sunshine. I was constantly having to shield my eyes. It was a physical game, and a couple of yellow cards, a sin bin and a penalty later, it became silly.

A fight broke out on the sidelines amongst spectators. I’m still not exactly sure what triggered it but I needed to remove all the players from the pitch and allow the situation to sort itself out. At least five grown men were on the ground throwing punches, grabbing clothing etc.

Would it have happened if tensions weren’t quite so high across the country/county? Probably, but it was a final kick in the guts for me and a ‘perfect’ ending to the year. So, the evening played out with me sneezing and drinking mulled cider and wine.

Day 274

Saturday 19 December

Big news day today. It seems that every other day is at the moment. A press conference from Downing Street this afternoon, whilst we were at the football, announced that Christmas was pretty much cancelled.

Such an amazing rainbow outside our front door this morning.

The day began calmly enough. An easy start and then off to the fairly recently established vineyard, just in the village. They were having a local producers market, silly prices for nice things. I hate feeling ripped off, especially when you pay extra just because they wrap whateve it is in brown paper with some string ties round it. But it was a pleasent distraction and it supports local producers in tricky times. My perception of ‘making ends meet’ though is different to this. They may be trying to earn a living, but their definition of ‘living’ may be way off what the parents of most of the kids we teach is.

Then home and out with the dog for our local walk. Just me and Lisa and Mabel. As we stepped out onto the lane, we were faced by a really vibrant rainbow over the field opposite. It stayed there for no more than a minute, just long enough to take a photo and take it in.

It made me grateful. A minute or two earlier and we would have been walking with our back to it and probably not seen it. A minute or two later and it would already have been and gone. We stepped out just at the right time, and it made us smile.

Then carrying on with our walk, the route we did day-after-day in the summer, we walked headlong into the sunshine. Closing my eyes and having the brightness, warm my eyelids with translucent light. It was a reminder of what good sunshine does to my spirits, again stirring memories from the summer and the anticipation of spring.

Then, off to see Colchester United v Morecambe. Where we sit in our ‘bubble’ of four, with the other three in our normal group in another part of the stand. I really miss the way we used to watch footy.

Whilst there we hear the news that pretty much all of the south east of the UK has moved into Tier 3 and, the new, Tier 4. Including London and most of Essex. Somehow we stay in Tier 2 and football continues as do our walks. But Christmas, as limited as it was going to be, is even more restricted after today.

Day 273

Friday 18 December

This day seemed so far off. The end of term. It is a common line in emails and circulars from Essex County Council officials and the DfE that we have never known a term like it. It’s true.

My Guardian Weekly arrived today with the most personally affecting cover images I have seen. It is hard to hold back the emotion. And it comes in a week in which we all know that we are in trouble again.

The summer term was weird and scary. This summer holidays (August) seemed to be pretty managable. But the past three or so months have been an ordeal. I really don’t need anytime to reflect on it. What’s worse is knowing that the spring term, with all of the optimism it usually brings, is likely to be just as tough. But. But, I am (we are) going to try and forget about it all as best we can for a few days at least.

I haven’t seen a face in a tree for a few months. Then I saw this worrying facade on our dog walk this morning in Lawford. It screams ‘doom’ and reflects the general mood of the population.

There were a number of work matters that needed sorting today. The kids went to a half day in college and Lisa and I were due to meet them to do some Christmas shopping in town. We decided to come home. It was uncomfortable, and just didn’t seem right. Instead, I got the laptop out and ordered everything online. This pandemic has rung the death toll for the high street shopping experience.

Tomorrow we will take in another walk and head to a local produce market in the morning. Then, it’s off to see Colchester United v Morecambe in the afternoon. Possibly the final game we will see live for a while because I cannot see us getting much into the new year before a further lockdown is initiated or we move into Tier 3. Southern Essex is already there and the news today was that the whole of the East of England is seeing alarmingly high rates of infection.

So, joy that the term has finished and we have kept the virus under control in our school. But it has come at a price. All of the staff involved in keeping a school open and operating are exhausted and bruised by poorly timed government directives and ‘guidance’. We all return on 4th January to chaos around mass rapid testing that was only declared yesterday, less than twenty-four hours before the end of term. Meanwhile, my work phone remains on to log any cases of symptoms developing in our pupils or staff over the next six days.

Day 272

Thursday 17 December

I have just realise that, in just a few days, I will be writing with just ninety days before I end the blog. That means we are about three months away from spring again. And a year of living with this virus in our lives will have passed.

Today we closed the doors to the school for the holidays and I remember the prime minister’s speach back in March. The one where he talked of the gates closing on our schools to start the first nationwide lockdown. We sensed then, of course, that it was a serious matter but if truth be told I wasn’t expecting it to have been this hard.

But even thought the gates have closed there is still lots to do. We still have responsibility to log and report any cases of Covid19 over the weekend and up to the 23rd. We are also awaiting further guidance on our responsibility, when we return in the new year, for rapid testing of pupils on a massive scale. Meanwhile teachers and staff are still expected to keep themselves at the frontline. Too dramatic? The cases are rising amongst 11 to 18 year olds faster than in any other groups.

Two cats, in through the bathroom window this evening. They used to be top of the tree but Mabel has taken that spot, but I think they prefer that.

It has been tough managing so many people’s anxieties and expectations this past nine months, and since September in particular. The constant stream of info shots and bulletins that come from the government is impossible to keep on top of. Regurgitating all of that daily and sharing it with staff, pupils and households has been a challenge. Even one of my refereeing games has cancelled this Sunday because parents are worried about infection.

But….but….now I stop. Slow down. Take a deep breath. I am definitely going to restart my meditation this holiday and probably some running with Adora too. Walking, I so love walking, with Mabel and the family, doing routes we know well and others untried before.

Day 271

Wednesday 16 December

“So, have yourself a merry LITTLE Christmas..but I must emphasise the word ‘little'” Boris Johnson spoke to the nation again this afternoon after he had had conversations with the leaders of the devolved nations. Trying to come to a collective decision about how we will be allowed/encouraged to celebrate this year is almost impossible.

Adora has been working so hard at college taking inspiration from our latest boxset watch on TV. Game of Thrones.

Although each nation is struggling to keep infection rates low, all are at slightly different rates and states. So, we are all being encouraged to keep it small this year. It will just be the four of us for Christmas dinner and Adora is going to make it! She is an amazing young person.

We’re closing in on the end of term with the final day tomorrow. Adrenaline is getting me through, plus coffee. The staff are shattered and really needing the break more than ever.

Farinose cartilage lichen (*Ramalina farinacea)* on a tree nearby.

No opportunity today to take a step outside. Just too much to deal with inside. So, an image from last weekend and our walk along the river Stour near Flatford and the Dedham vale. I have never noticed this kind of moss before but it is quite an impressive looking thing. Birds, insects use it for nest building or simply living in.

I’ve realised that this is a really jumbled post today. No flow, just a scrapbook of bits. I guess it’s down to the fact that work is dragging so much of my thinking time away. Down time is non existent right now. The mission is simply to get through.

I am looking forward to getting into the holiday spirit this weekend. Get some presents bought, do a jigsaw, drink some wine and spend quality time with the family. I must switch off for that fortnight.