I've written several times on here about my increasing reluctance to go chasing other people's birds. And how it is because it hits me harder when I don't "get" them. I think it is probably an "age" thing... or is it an "experience" thing ... or just sheer common-or-garden laziness ? And it is also related to the increasing difficulty of increasing whatever lists you keep as they get longer .... like climbing a mountain that just gets steeper and steeper until you just can't be arsed to go any further. I assume this happens to other birders too. Maybe even ... perish the thought ... some of you. This first time I got that feeling ... which I have christened " The Ruislip Effect" was a horrendous "dip" on Anglesey which involved dipping drastically on what would/should have been my first Rose-Coloured Starling. It actually didn't "matter" that much objectively, I've seen plenty of them since. .... I think the worst thing about it was that every blasted person in the little coastal village had seen it .....and they kept telling me how beautiful it was .... and how close they got to it ... ooooh ... that hurt ! But now, many years later, I've been there and done all that, and don't "need" to go chasing after other people's leftovers and then not sodding seeing them. BUT .... do other birders get to feel that way too ? Surely they must ..... (?) Any opinions/experiences etc will be welcomed at [email protected] ( Plus, of course, running a seaside bar restricts your chasing-things-around- capability considerably.) So ... that's your actual " Ruislip Effect" ... out in the open at last. I wonder .... is there a cure ? Perhaps being amazingly wealthy might do the trick .... And/or owning your own helicopter . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Strangely, there are no songs about Ruislip. So ...here's an " of-its-time" song featuring Serge Gainsbourg ..... widely known as "big-ears" at Mini-Birding Towers .... we don't pull our punches ! Ce mortel ennui Qui me vient Quand je suis avec toi Ce mortel ennui Qui me tient Et me suis pas à pas Le jour où j'aurai assez d'estomac Et de toi Pour te laisser choir Ce jour-là, oh oui ce jour là, je crois Oui je crois Que Je Pourrai voir Ce mortel ennui Se tailler À l'anglaise loin de moi Bien sûr il n'est rien besoin de dire À l'horizontale Mais on ne trouve plus rien à se dire À la verticale Alors pour tuer le temps Entre l'amour et l'amour Je prends le journal et mon stylo Et je remplis Et les a et les o Il faudra bien que je me décide un jour Mon amour À me faire la malle Mais j'ai peur que tu n'ailles dans la salle de bains Tendre la main Vers Le Gardénal Comme je ne veux pas d'ennui Avec ma Conscience et ton père Je me laisse faire !
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
|