9 March

Thursday

9 March 2017

— One small new feeder suction-cupped to one of the big south windows.

Good Morning All,

Not that I needed an excuse for another feeder, of course, but on gray days, which is to say 4 out of every 5, the birds can get confused by the slants of light and bounce off the glass of my two large south windows. In fact, from where I am sitting I can see the faint outline of a bird’s wing-spread body right near where the feeder now is. It looks as though, he was putting on the brakes at the last second. I hope so. Anyway, I’ve put shelled sunflowers seeds in the feeder, which is actually an old one Holly gave me several years ago. It may be too close to me for many or any birds to stop by. We’ll see what happens. At the very least, it will let the birds know about the glass.

A curious thing happened to me yesterday. Or, more precisely, didn’t happen to me. For the past couple of years the huge Danish shipping company, Mærske, and a pretty big Danish drug company, Novo Nordisk, have been putting up a large, purpose-built school for C.I.S. down on the harbor. Yesterday, it turns out, was the official opening. It was a pretty big deal. The Queen’s sister was there along with a couple of Ministers and members of Parliament. Lots of other big knobs in suits. TV and print media were there. Quite a few of my colleagues and old friends were there. 

But I wasn’t there.

I never got an invitation. 

Which, at first was rather annoying. I would have loved to have been there. It would have been a pleasure shooting the breezes with people I’ve known for thirty-five years, not to mention colleagues and friends still working at the school.

And, I confess, I am today still somewhat annoyed. I’d have thought thirty years at the school would have merited an invite. Working my fingers down to bloody stumps, etc., etc.

I suspect I may not be able to convince you that what I also feel this morning is a curious sense of liberation. Mind you, I am not sure I can convince myself of that, either, but—at the moment, anyway—released is how I feel. And a bit relieved into the bargain. Sort of like every September in the good old days when the Red Sox were mathematically eliminated from contention, and we could all relax again.

Ah, poor Bheka, why don’t you go out into the garden and make yourself a worm sandwich. 

Go Well and Stay Well,

Bhekaron

P.S. Yes, that is our old house in the background, Johs’s bedroom window. Yes, Holly is wearing what I believe is a dolphin hat.