Peace and quiet
‘There’s
nothing there,’ said a sad man walking by with a massive camera pointing
downwards hanging from his neck.
‘But
we saw one last night, in the owl light.’ We told him.
We had
rushed to the RSPB reserve to see the short-eared owl again. We saw it a few
months ago, and now for some reason there is an influx this year from Iceland,
Scandinavia and Russia onto our east coast. We stood silently then suddenly he shouted.
‘There
it is.’
There
was the owl with big, rounded wings swooping overhead. He reached for his camera,
but the bird had gone. We waited a little while then trooped back with the
other bird watchers, their long-lensed cameras swinging dejectedly.
As we
left the reserve on the little road going through the uncut fields, we saw the
owl again doing its familiar swoops away from the photographers and evading camera
lenses.
We had
a very quiet time by the sea, well it would be quiet in cold December. But this
was our last visit to family and friends before Christmas. The long golden
stretches of sand were deserted. Even the huge café overlooking the cliffs and
sea was empty. We sat and had our cheese wraps alone to the sound of ‘Jingle
Bells’ tinkling from the speakers.
I
heard my phone bell ring as I sat in the café. It was a text (they chase you
everywhere).
‘Your
package has arrived with us but cannot be delivered because of incomplete
address.’ It went on to tell me that to get my package I had to press on a link
and fill in my details. It was a scam of course, at least I think it is but
there is always that nagging feeling that there is a parcel somewhere that
needs to be delivered to me. Like the owl I left it and moved on.
On our
way back to Shropshire there were lots of hold-ups on the motorway with the satnav
asking us several times if we wanted to do a different route and save twenty
minutes. Then came the fog. I could see the bank of misty grey getting ready to
envelop us. It was on us like a bird of prey.
“FOG”
shouted the overhead gantry lights. Then not too far away we read ‘End’, but
the fog had not ended and we drove on over the Pennines in a cotton wool
blanket, which was not as warm as it sounds.
Even
before our house heated up, I was putting stamps on my late cards. I am still sending
them with cheaper second-class stamps, but my Christmas wishes to everyone are
first class.
(Taken from my column in the Shropshire Star)
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