Tired. So tired.
Easter holidays almost over, and I am feeling about 10 times more tired than I did at the beginning. I got out of bed at 1pm today.
I’m teaching part time so had a break from that but I have a possible new lighting project which seemed simple and has now got complicated – but the harder I work at the concept to offer, the more chance that it will be taken on.
The laptop continues to cause problems. Not sure how I haven’t gone out of my head.
There’s the ongoing family health issues and setbacks, and my continued awareness of the preciousness of life.
There’s seagulls crying outside. I can’t get over hearing this sound in the middle of London, when for me it means the North Yorkshire coast and seaside of long ago family holidays: Whitby, Scarborough, Bridlington. Robin Hood’s Bay, Filey.
Talking of birdsong I spent Saturday night/Easter Sunday morning standing in a woodland nature reserve listening to a nightingale sing and sing and sing. Since I discovered the Foundling Museum, I have had some of the most wonderful experiences of my life. The museum have been hosting Folk at the Foundling, a series of folk concerts organised by The Nest Collective, whose director Sam Lee has just become a Foundling Fellow. I looked up more about him to see he organises walks into nature reserves where there are nightingale colonies. He sometimes goes himself and has an eclectic mixture of musicians who participate different nights. You can find details here: Singing With Nightingales. The night we went was hosted by him with a violinist called Preetha Narayanan. The evening started with an ornithologist Tom Stuart taking us into the woods to hear the evening chorus of birds. Then a campfire meal with Sam and Preetha singing and playing, and Tom giving a talk about the nightingale, its song and its habitats. Then just after 11pm we walked without torchlight following Tom back into the scrub-land the nightingales inhabit and eventually came across one who sang his heart out for us, for short periods accompanied by Sam singing and Preetha’s violin.
The magic of the experience for me was the silence and the dark which accompanied the bird’s song – apparently this particular bird was a very enthusiastic and energetic singer, and not as sweet as I had heard in recordings but that mattered nothing. He sang his heart out regardless of his human audience.
A rare evening of such varied riches.
Tomorrow is another day….
willans-and-searle_how-to-be-topp_london-max-parrish-1954_p106
