Evidence that one can experience the miraculous on the way to work
I have sound! Not volume. But sound!
I have been miraculously healed by a flock of birds. And I know you'll think 'oh, come off it', but think again. Do not doubt, brothers and sisters. Amen. Let us sing Hymn No 439.
I walked to school this morning without a voice, intending to just set all the work for the people covering my lessons, and then come home. I was ready for another day of enforced silence and steaming my head in bowls and eating forty-nine slices of toast and honey. (Shuddup. I'm meant to be eating honey.)
Just as I reached the bit of the country lane where I turn right down a pathway (that's right, the one that's unlit and has murderers waiting down it), this flippin' massive flock of birds (can't be more specific - you know me and nature) SANG to me.
Don't ask me what they were singing. I didn't recognise the tune. It could've been Twinkle Twinkle Little Starling or Wren Will I See you Again or Hold Me Crows And Never Let Me Go. Actually, I think it was more like some kind of 18th century choral work, because there were about a hundred million trillion zillion of them, these birds. What a racket!
Anyway, I looked up at them in my laryngitical (?) state, and I mouthed, 'I suppose you think that's funny'. (If you are ever driving down my road at 8 in the morning and see a woman in a red coat talking to a tree, don't call the authorities. it's been tried before. She's a lost cause.)
Now, though, folks! Here's the miracle! I hadn't MOUTHED the words at all. I'd SAID them. Yes, it came out a bit croaky, and yes it sounded like someone dragging two chairs across a tiled floor, but it was SOUND. And it was the first proper sound I've made for four days.
Call me a fantasist, if you like. (Not in THAT tone, thank you.) But I think I have been miraculously healed by birdsong. And considering the fact that I am not exactly one of Nature's Great Advocates, I feel very humbled.
Of course, if, on the way home from work tomorrow, I get pecked to death by a dirty great eagle who spots my bright red coat and thinks I am fresh carrion, I may see things differently. But at least I'll be able to do My Dying Words out loud.
I have been miraculously healed by a flock of birds. And I know you'll think 'oh, come off it', but think again. Do not doubt, brothers and sisters. Amen. Let us sing Hymn No 439.
I walked to school this morning without a voice, intending to just set all the work for the people covering my lessons, and then come home. I was ready for another day of enforced silence and steaming my head in bowls and eating forty-nine slices of toast and honey. (Shuddup. I'm meant to be eating honey.)
Just as I reached the bit of the country lane where I turn right down a pathway (that's right, the one that's unlit and has murderers waiting down it), this flippin' massive flock of birds (can't be more specific - you know me and nature) SANG to me.
Don't ask me what they were singing. I didn't recognise the tune. It could've been Twinkle Twinkle Little Starling or Wren Will I See you Again or Hold Me Crows And Never Let Me Go. Actually, I think it was more like some kind of 18th century choral work, because there were about a hundred million trillion zillion of them, these birds. What a racket!
Anyway, I looked up at them in my laryngitical (?) state, and I mouthed, 'I suppose you think that's funny'. (If you are ever driving down my road at 8 in the morning and see a woman in a red coat talking to a tree, don't call the authorities. it's been tried before. She's a lost cause.)
Now, though, folks! Here's the miracle! I hadn't MOUTHED the words at all. I'd SAID them. Yes, it came out a bit croaky, and yes it sounded like someone dragging two chairs across a tiled floor, but it was SOUND. And it was the first proper sound I've made for four days.
Call me a fantasist, if you like. (Not in THAT tone, thank you.) But I think I have been miraculously healed by birdsong. And considering the fact that I am not exactly one of Nature's Great Advocates, I feel very humbled.
Of course, if, on the way home from work tomorrow, I get pecked to death by a dirty great eagle who spots my bright red coat and thinks I am fresh carrion, I may see things differently. But at least I'll be able to do My Dying Words out loud.
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| Get your last requests sorted, sunshine, 'cos your newfound relationship with birdies is about to end .... |
Hooray for the birds!! Glad you are on the mend.
ReplyDeleteThat must have been quite a shock for the birds, too. Glad you'll soon be in full voice once again.
ReplyDeleteAh yes, that well known cure for laryngitis - The Birdy Song.....
ReplyDeleteAnna May x
Whoa. I was so worried you were going to say that the massive flock of birds began dropping to the ground, dead. Sorry, I'm a little spooked by the whole bird apocalypse thing. As for your bird-induced miracle, I totally believe but I hope you took the day off work anyway.
ReplyDeleteOh, magical birds! Why didn't we think of that sooner?
ReplyDeleteAlfred Hitchcock is no doubt spinning in his grave thinking to himself, "No no no no! You just can't get the staff these days!"
ReplyDelete;-)
Oh my goodness you'll be Tweating next - just don't give up the blog !
ReplyDeleteI " borrowed " my son's very nice Henry Lloyd sail jacket yesterday without his permission to go to a meeting. On the way I got shat on by a pigeon & has to nip to the toilet to clean it off pretty prompt. He hasn't noticed. Ignorance is bliss - I would have been in BIG trouble !
Carry on croaking xx
Yes, that's right, dear, the nice birdies sang to you and now you can talk again......now just sit here by the gentleman in the white coat.....this injection won't hurt......
ReplyDeleteAh Hah! See! You are in touch with nature! Good old birdies!
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Just out of interest, while you're communing with our feathered friends: is it true that the First Coot is the Deepest, Diamonds are a Gull's Best Friend and Tit's Impossible?
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on your Bird Healing - I trust none of them will crap on your lovely red coat in the days to come :-) ROFL laughing at the First Coot is the Deepest! Hen will I see you again? Hen will we share precious moments?
ReplyDeletetake it as an omen to mend your ways.
ReplyDeletenature does have its good points.
Does that mean if I find the right flock of birds I too will get my voice back?
ReplyDelete*Grabs torch, coat and bird-book andheads out in dark*
It's called the Dawn Chorus. It happens very late in the winter, aka 'not at dawn'. Then again, these days the dawn chorus often doesn't happen at all. Blackbirds peck at Thrushes, Thrushes don't want to live anymore. Thrushes set Starlings a bad example, Starling flock and move away (doing interesting formation flying in the process). Mute Swans see the Starlings doing formation flying and suddenly - they can speak!
ReplyDelete;)
I'm glad your voice is coming back. I always knew birds had magical healing powers. It's called 'I want a worblie, feed me a worblie and I will sing for you'.
Were you carrying any worblies about your person at the time, perchance? 'Cos they must've thought you were!
A case of birdsong tinnitus, perchance?
ReplyDeleteIt is not how loud you say it Fran, it is what you say. And, my goodness, you say it well.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on your laryngitis recovery stage 1. As a believer of psychological illness myself, it seems only fair that psychological healing also applies. Feel free to visit me here: http://neuroticnotes.wordpress.com/
ReplyDelete"And it came to pass ....."
ReplyDeleteThough if I joined in the hymn singing you might , once more , be struck dumb .
Of COURSE ! Hymn 439 is "We Utter Our Cry ".
ReplyDeleteSorry , I really must watch Songs of Praise more often .
You are all such witty commenters. I've really enjoyed reading them all and laughing at them. Forgive my lack of responses - I am finding life extremely busy with my new voice. Oh, and the new job.
ReplyDeleteHope you'll soon be singing: 'Non! Je Ne EGRET rien!'
ReplyDelete*laughs at own joke.... gets coat*
Oh goodness, I thought you must be... well, not dead, but mysteriously transported into another dimension or something, because my computer has been telling me that you hadn't posted since the one about not being able to pronounce 2011. It was lying to me! Or you've been deliberately hiding.
ReplyDeleteThis could be out of shame, of course, because you've been off work with a tiny cough while I've been hobbling in with a broken ankle.
Anyway, welcome back. So to speak. Oh, I forgot. You can't.