Beware of Low-Flying Mondays

Monday.

All my fellow insomniacs out there will, I’m sure, if not sympathise at least get where I’m coming from. Right now I’m on night seven of little-to-no sleep. I would have normally crashed around about the week mark, fallen into involuntary deep and a somewhat unnatural dream-filled sleep, but, alas, last night it was to prove elusive to any or all my feeble attempts. I tried every trick in my very ample tool box, from favourite costume dramas on my tablet, self-hypnosis (or is this by now psychosis😁), calming music, strong pain meds, then, lastly, but by no means least, finishing off with a large bowl of comforting cereal. Don’t we all love a nice bowl of 4am cornflakes?😁.

Laying back down again, my cover nest pulled up tightly around my ears, something akin to swaddling like a small child, I lay restless in the semi-darkness, my ears attuned to the surrounding sounds: Cinnamon rabbit laying waste to his latest Amazon box, cats outside having a very unfriendly turf war, the flat’s natural creaking as it expands and contracts as the dawn chill onsets, Jesse’s sleeping sounds in phone land… all bringing their usual sense of peace and some comfort.

I change numerous times from my right side onto my back, as my mind begins its usual barrage of unanswered questions. I’m sure you all know the ones I’m talking of here, like why does January have three more days than February? (Surely there’s a logical answer, but I cannot think of one.) What was the first human thinking about when they ate meat for the very first time? Did he/she begin with licking a nearby cow for instance? Then thinking ‘hmm, you taste okay-ish but… maybe if I put you in my handy cave air-fryer at 400 degrees for ten minutes you would taste a whole lot better! 😁 Then there’s a recent question plaguing my mind. Not world peace. Noooo! But why has my favourite chocolate, Galaxy, changed its recipe? This was the most serious of questions for me, as it was my favourite chocolate of all time. (Note the “was” here.) Its taste and texture very different now, hardly any flavour and not the smooth satin sweet taste of yesteryear. I was in the beginning outraged and incensed. I rarely eat chocolate these days but when I do I want to know it tastes exactly the same as I left it. I want to be indulged with that soft, silky, seducing, comforting sweetness, just like an old friend. (Well, maybe not. I don’t usually go around taking bites out of my friends, you’ll be glad to hear.) But oh noooo! They had to go and change it!!!!!!🙄 This is exactly how my sleepless mind whirls.😁

Over the weekend I finished my first ever diamond painting picture. In the very beginning when I started out on this new venture, I wasn’t even sure I would have the patience to complete it, but at least here I succeeded. Anything I find daunting or overwhelming I break down into smaller, more manageable sections, each day working on a small piece for upwards of an hour. For some reason, placing one small bead after another on its almost indistinguishable letter or number has become relaxing. Before I know it, time passes by without note. The cocooning warmth blown from my small heater envelopes me, its white noise as it rattles and whirs away fills the silence. I’m immersed totally, not only is it quieting my over active nervous system, but I feel a sense of pride and accomplishment the nearer to completion I get.

In between these diamond painting sessions I get up to stretch out the kinks in my back and neck. My neck has plagued me for years, becoming more painful the older I get. It grinds and clicks with increasing frequency, so it’s essential I only sit bent over my project for short spells. I make myself a coffee and look out the living room window. It’s become a beautiful day. The sky’s completely blue, cloudless, and I feel compelled to go outdoors. I say ‘compelled’ because it’s an almost involuntary urge, refusing to be silenced or ignored despite all my best efforts. I don’t feel up to walking at the moment. I haven’t in some time now, so I strike a compromise… a bargain with myself, knowing there’s a chance I may see one of my neighbours, and that can only be of benefit, as living a secluded lifestyle is one thing, but it’s not good mentally. I’m very aware of this. So, wrapping myself tightly in a warm wool cape Jesse bought me before Christmas, I go out and sit with my coffee on the front step. The sun is welcoming, coming with a surprising amount of warmth in it for what is, after all, still winter. It’s soothing and I feel at once mellow, closing my eyes, tipping my head back, relaxed. Only when I hear a familiar ‘coo coo’ from the gutter above am I disturbed from this revelry.

Walter and Dave.

I look up in the direction from where the sound emanates. There, peeping nervously from their gutter hiding place, are two bobbing, curious heads, turning this way and that, each training one beady eye upon me. I know immediately why I’m being watched. It’s past their feed time. Twice daily, every day without fail, I go out with a large plastic beaker filled to the brim with seed, filling my makeshift bird table with half, before scattering the rest upon the grass. This has gone on since the end of September! I started out with one pair of pigeons, followed rapidly by their ever growing brood. They, in turn, brought over their friends and family. 😁 Over the weeks, not only have they grown to recognise their host, but I can tell them apart: familiar wing patterns, colouring, body shape differentiates them.

Day after day my pigeon family not only gets larger in scale, but grow more at ease with my daily presence. In particular, one large immaculately-feathered guy I like to call ‘Walter’ and his ever-present, ever-faithful second-in-command: Dave. Dave is much smaller, darker and slimmer in stature. He checks out the neighbourhood nervously while Walter crams vast amounts of feed in greedily. Over the weeks I’ve noticed these two becoming bolder in their approach to feeding, no longer waiting until I go in. No, now they have taken to coming down while I stand there. I’m convinced they have cottoned on craftily to the fact the others are not so ready to follow suit. It has advanced to the point when I shake their container and call “come on!!!!” they swoop down from their lofty watching perch upon the roof. This, though, is changing rather rapidly, as others are becoming more settled with me. Freckles, Olive, Colin, Red have taken to joining them, and I must confess, I look forward to these daily interactions with my band of feathery friends. It enhances each day. We have become co-dependant. I’m aware to some these beautiful, harmless creatures are considered vermin. I’ve even heard them called Sky Rats and far, far worse. I’m aware their numbers grow yearly, but they are living, breathing, intelligent beings. I know some believe they carry disease, but then so do other birds. And, considering pigeon fanciers are responsible for their very existence in the first instance and taking into account also their usefulness during both 1st and 2nd world wars, the joy brought about by feeding them is priceless. I know they make a big difference to many, not just myself. Well folks… from Walter, Dave, Colin, Red, Freckles, Olive and me… take care of yourselves.💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦