Woken by the first alarm calls at territorial intrusions, alerts and disputes of airspace and protection of nests at 04:45h.
Then disturbed again at 05:17h by shouting from a distant street. A man’s raised voice echoes through the break of day. Again from closer at 05:32, yet still a way from here. Is he heard by others? What ails him? It sounds like anger.
Is he wandering the city alone? Is someone else at risk? How did this start? How will it end, as it must?
There was rain most of the night and into first light of morning, adding to the flooding of fields, paddocks and open ground around Norwich. The Marriott Way was impassable just north of Hellesdon. Beyond Tavenham the power of the running flood water could be seen in the folds of its surface as it flowed fast between willow trees, forming wakes from the immobile trunks and as it surged under the arches of old stone bridges.
Environment Agency workers were out measuring the water’s depth near Shallowbrook Lakes, where the River Tud had already inundated the lane. At Ringland more heavy flooding spilled from the meandering course of the Wensum. The banks of the river had burst and gulls floated happily in a large flock to the east of the old bridge and swans graced the floods to its west.
Snowdrops are found everywhere, even close to the worst of the flooding. One particular domestic garden on the west of Tavenham is blanketed with thousands of pendulous white flowers.
At Costessey a cherry tree has the first of its delicate pink-tinged white flowers open. The other small flowers are like tiny balls of snow, but are about to unfold. The morning is mild; perfect for cycling were it not for the flooded roads.
Daffodil shoots are now seen at every turn, on each roadside, in every garden border.
While the large water fowl are content to drift freely on the temporary inland seas, smaller birds are busy pairing up and nest building. Blue tits and great tits are active. The malevolent jay goes about its furtive business, swooping low into the undergrowth by the road.
At Eaton Park, by the bandstand there is a wonderful echoing of conversation off the encircling arcade. There is a queue of women, mostly in pairs, waiting to order coffee from the makeshift take-away service at the café. On the fixed bench seats that neatly surround the domed bandstand, women are sitting and exchanging their news and opinions. A small group of toddlers dressed in bright rainwear are playing happily. They add ringing tones to the burble of conversation and occasional outbreak of laughing.
At Churchfield Garden the café has sufficient business for the good-natured proprietor. He has a radio playing songs from the 1970s and 1980s. Every now and then a customer asks him what the tune is, as if he is the DJ selecting the playlist. He seems knowledgeable enough and engages with an elderly man who tells him anecdotes prompted by the recognition of an old hit.
Again the benches have various combinations of people meeting with disposal cups charged with tea or coffee. This park, closer to the business centre of Norwich has a wider range of people. Noticeably more men, some of whom are clearly out of work, or low on money.
I get the sense that for many people, this third lockdown is a permanent Sunday, but without church services to attend, or heavy lunches to prepare.
What is so heart-warming to see is the number of people out walking, as well as hearing the sound of conversations blending in the winter air.
It would be ridiculous to file all the recorded music I have in alphabetical order until I have a settled home. I don’t know how long I will be living here, (no one knows how long Lockdown 3 will even last), but I know that I can’t put up any shelves in this rented property. So, what I have is in plastic boxes.
Today I decided to empty them all out and re-box the collection into categories then note where each box is stashed. So, if I fancy listening to some Godspeed You Black Emperor, John Lennon, Bela Bartok, or The Fall I will now know where to start looking.
I discovered one CD I remembered little about, which turned out to be by Saul Williams the title Martyr Loser King. I think that I had bought it in Rough Trade East from the sale rack. The title must have appealed to me and is indicative of the cleverly constructed lyrics, which you can download as a pdf from the website. The artist’s projects include poetry and film. Worth investigating, if you have some spare Internet time.
I recognised another bargain basement CD I had acquired, but wasn’t sure if it was blues, or country-rock, or what, because I had not played it recently. It turned out to be an authentic country and western album with lyrics so mournful it made me laugh out loud. It cheered me up no end, thanks, Mr Leach.
If you want to track it down it is Tom Leach’s eponymous album, Tom Leach. He produced all 16 tracks on a friend’s 4 track recording machine at home. The tracks Yesterday’s News and Mr Hang Up The Phone are just two of the gems on this album. The absolute winner is Ice Below You. The chorus includes the line “You’ve got so much ice below you; I’m falling through.” is a winter winner; ideal for these times of bad weather, covid confinement and misery.