I often find myself distracted in the kitchen. I’m supposed to be jamming. Making jam, not music. But the pigeons coo, the great tits see-saw whistle, the blue tits chatter and the wrens scold, their huge voices belying their tiny bodies.
My feelings war between this scolding, this feeling that I ‘should’ be busy, and the delight of my avian company. Particularly during this holiday period, we are pressured to be busy, doing, making, buying; pleasing. Sometimes I just want to please myself. To sing, to speak Spanish, to read, to shout at the radio, to cuddle the cats and children.
Oh, I do love making jam, but it’s become a chore for now. Now the birds call to me. I can’t help but listen.