Stormy Weather

Photo © Rob Jones

As I write the skies are darkening and a big storm is barrelling in from the Atlantic. It is of course the height of Summer here in Wales.

Also - as I write - George is tap dancing on my velux.

George is my seagull.

When I say ‘my seagull,’ naturally I am not implying ownership. But I do feel a bond, as I’ve watched him enter the world, take his first faltering steps, yell his head off at his mum for food and, after failing repeatedly, take his first flight.

Photo © Rob Jones

I watch him, but he also likes watching me. I keep catching him sitting on the window sill and staring in. I know he can see me. He seems fascinated. He’s also started dancing on my velux in the bathroom and kitchen.

Now, I am acutely aware that AMM has no love of seagulls, and I need to assure her that I am in no way encouraging them by feeding them or showing any kind of friendliness towards them. The opposite in fact. Especially since I tend to need total external silence for my voicework. At this time of year though it’s almost an impossibility.

Plus, when bad weather is forecast, seagulls coming into port are a pretty good sign that it’s going to be rough weatherwise. So, I suppose I see George as an animal equivalent to Tomasz Schafernaker and Derek Brockway.

Sometimes I entertain thoughts of opening the window and charitably sharing the safety of my lounge with George but I know it would be chaos. He’d be into the bins, stalking through the flat in search of mischief and doing his business at the drop of a hat.

So no. He stays outside staring in, and I stay inside staring out. We both know our places.

But it’s nice to know there are natural ways of knowing that danger is coming, without resorting to the internet and broadcast media.

Some my mother taught me - ‘Red sky at night/morning, shepherds’/sailors’ delight/warning’ (Delete as applicable; Pine Cones closing up - I always have a pine cone on my desk - and cows lying down in the field, or showing their rear quarters to the prevailing wind, both suggesting rain is near at hand.

I do sometimes wonder if we’ve lost our natural connection with the elements. We' have stopped being attuned to the the world around us. We can’t see danger until it’s too late.

Anyway, seeing George inspired me to pack my hat and mac, and wear my walking boots.

Which was a good thing, because I seriously needed them.

Thanks George.

R