Pandemic Pondering #98

Seasons in the Sun.

Rarely in England is Spring considered a season in the sun. Spring 2020 was an exception and along with Lockdown I think I’m going to miss it.

I stole the title from a 1973 song Seasons in the Sun which is a pretty melancholic song. In the 1973 iteration by Terry Jacks it is sung from the perspective of a man who knows he is about to die, he says goodbye to those close to him.

The original version by Jaques Brel was also melancholic, but told from the perspective of a man whose heart is broken by his best friend having an affair with his wife . The man with the broken heart believes he will die of it.

For those of you with an interest in Cardiology there is a broken heart condition called Takotsubo Syndrome.

Anecdotally people do present with all the symptoms of a heart attack and are seen in a Cath Lab days after someone they love has passed away. On rare occasions after their loved one has attended the same Cath Lab.

The link below is to the original song.

The 1973 version of the song became anthemic in my small Essex town during the seventies, when two teenage boys were killed in a road accident. The link below is the Terry Jacks version, should you care to share my earworm.

Today I was earwormed as I cut down and disposed of the poppies and alliums that lit up the days of spring. The poppies in particular became a local landmark. Which is in part why they have had to go. They were looking pretty shabby this morning.

They will live on in other gardens next year.

So much pondering from clearing a rough area of its faded poppies.

The alliums also took a one way trip to the compost bin.

Both can show off one last time to finish off this blog.

We had joy,

We had fun,

We had seasons in the sun.

But the hills that we climbed,

Were just seasons out of time.

Pandemic Pondering #78

There has been a lot written or broadcast in the news recently about research by psychologists into sleep disturbance and vivid dreaming during the Pandemic.

I seem to manage both in the same night. I can struggle to sleep , often not knowingly getting any sleep before the dawn chorus starts and then sleeping deeply and having vivid dreams.

The link above is the sound I gently drop off to sleep with. Although most mornings here there is the 4am Harley -Davidson commuter . His motorbike farting its way past the house with the familiar deep thrum, recognisable by most of us and adored by many, it is not a great addition to the sounds of nature.

I won’t put a link in here for an audio clip of a Harley-Davidson. Far too brutal a sound for this pondering. This is a blog that feels tranquil even though temporary insomnia is hardy a soporific subject.

Maybe it’s the abstract sounds that then fuel the vivid dreams. Recently the theme seems to be lost or misplaced things. Whole paintings that I have never painted and then go missing, these worry me greatly in the dreams and it takes a good bit of resolve not to go hunting for them when I wake up. Last night it was missing photographs. My wakeful hours at night don’t seem to be particularly troubled by overthinking. Like everyone, I’ve got a fair bit going on in my head during this pandemic but sometimes I just lie awake because sleep is simply eluding me.

The birdsong link is something I would really reccomend as a lovely listen and a blog about temporary insomnia is as good a place as any to share it. For the same reason I’ve filled this blog with Allium photographs .

Alliums are the epitome of tranquil expressed as a flower. Solitary and calm, I love them.