Sunday, 20 July 2008

Of Concertinas and Seagulls

I've just about got things sorted since getting back from Iceland although there are still lists of things I've got to get done like getting CRB checked, essential if I want to tell stories to children in libraries even though I will never be alone with them. Apparently I shall also need to get myself public liability insurance and though storytelling must be a low risk occupation premiums are very high and so far I've not found a specialist broker. The hunt continues. However all is not doom and gloom and the age of miracles, trust and generosity is far from over.
Two days ago I emailed a friend saying that as a storyteller I would love to have a small instrument to sing to and, as my ukalele is now only good for a wall decoration since it hit the cabin floor in a force nine gale (and that's another story) perhaps a concertina would be a good idea? Then I added 'am I quite mad?'
Yesterday morning the reply came back, 'No, not mad,' with a contact number. I rang the number and an encouraging voice gave me another number, a young mum called Carole. Half an hour later Carole, who I had never met before, was on my doorstep with a concertina for me to borrow 'for as long as you like!' I phoned a concertina specialist somewhere in the north of England for advice and told him, 'Oh,' he said, ' Concertina people are like that!
After such trust and kindness I've got to settle down and learn how to play it so, having trawled the net I'm printing off a free instruction manual. Fortunately I have a small room at the top of the house where I can practice in private and when I can escape for a few hours I shall be able to take it down to my Writing Hut where only the seagulls will be able to hear.
From the kitchen window I've been watching a pair of gulls raising three youngsters. They are very caring parents and got frantically worried when one chick fell from their nest on a chimney pot and slid down the roof into a gutter . They fed it, cajoled it and finally taught it to fly while still caring for the two remaining in the nest. Now the hen bird is enjoying a well earned rest sitting on the empty nest and gossiping with her friends sitting on the neighbouring chimney pots. Soon she will go too, but she and her life long partner will be back next year.

1 comment:

Telmis said...

I can hear those sea-shanties from here; life is so filled with generosity, the skill is in finding it.