Aaaah there’s nothing like starting your day by fighting a wild bird.
There’s a little humpback bridge near where I live. The road narrows to a single track for 50m, controlled by traffic lights. I was cursing the builders van in front of me as he sailed through the green light then stopped dead in the middle of the bridge for what seemed no reason at all. I’ve timed these morning journeys to the train station to perfection. I know to the minute how late I can leave and still have time to drive, park and then walk, stride, run to the platform. What I hadn’t factored in to my calculations was a solitary giant swan pissing about in the middle of the road, essentially stopping all traffic. The builder’s van managed eventually to slowly manoeuvre around the completely unfazed swan/roadblock, just in time to miss the lights and meet the oncoming car now coming the other way through the other green light.
There’s a short standoff while the driver of the oncoming car thinks no doubt why is this bellend running a red light, I’m not moving, it’s my right of way. He’d be right of course, as the builder also must realise. After a few seconds deliberation, he put himself into reverse. But guess which feathery dickhead was now behind his van? He’s now hemmed in the middle of the bridge with a car in front of him, a ballsy swan behind him, and absolutely no room to get around either without meeting a watery death over the parapet of the bridge.
He gets out, scratches his head. Makes a few halfhearted gestures towards the giant bird, who just stands there, observing him without moving an inch.
Sensing my train sailing off to Birmingham without me, cursing, I flung open my car door and abandon my own car. I sprint up the bridge towards this unlikely tableaux of man versus bird. Shouting. I’m shouting. Specifically, I’m shouting ‘GET OUT OF THE WAY YOU MASSIVE STUPID DICKHEAD’.
It occurs to me now, with hindsight, that I hope the builder didn’t think I meant him. Anyway. I’m running up to the swan, waving my arms, shouting. Putting about three hundred percent more effort into shooing him out of the road than SJD Builder. As I run, a small corner of my brain is querying whether I am actually going to have to put my arms around this enormous swan and bodily lift and hurl him over the bridge, because despite my alarming advance, he is still not moving.
I stop short of this, of course, but I’m now close enough to sit on his back and ride him to safety if I felt like it. By now, builder is trying a new technique, which involves treating the swan like a football and faking enormous almost-kicks in its general direction. No joy. Between us we clap, shout, hiss, flap our arms and very nearly boot this bird up the bum and eventually it waddles over to the tiny scrap of grass at the side of the bridge.
Seizing the moment and legging it back to my abandoned car, I observe with interest that there’s now a queue of four new cars behind my own, all of whom have just seen me at less than my best. No matter. Good job I didn’t actually kick the bastard. Good job my J.O.B permits the wearing of casual attire and I’m doing this in trainers, not heels. Good job that while all this was going on, the oncoming car found it in himself to actually reverse, leaving the road now clear. The builder slowly pulls off.
I wait for the lights to change in my favour, to avoid exactly the previous incident. They turn green. Go Go Go!! Gonna miss my fuckin train!! Shit!!!
The swan has deliberately ambled back into the middle of the road.
The prick.
I’m taking no more chances. I swerve around it driving like my hair is on fire and correctly decide that I’ve done my bit and the swan bollard is now someone else’s problem. By breaking the space time continuum, I managed to somehow still make the train, from where I sit writing this to you all.
Happy Wednesday!
All the happy things…
I’m just back from a couple of days in Norfolk with my children. It was a last minute thing, and I took them to stay in the same place I used to visit every year for two weeks my whole childhood, which was just so lovely but also bittersweet and weird. It’s like going back in time in that a lot about the village is exactly the same as it was in the eighties, including that the village shop still insists on cash only which took us all by surprise on day one. I posted a few pictures and thoughts about it on my Instagram if you’re interested.
On that note, I was particularly pleased with whichever WIT felt compelled to write this enormous message of joy and encouragement on the beach in ten foot high letters. Thank you, from the bottom of my cold, dead heart:
Look, dreams can come true and I’m here to tell you, hot on the heels of last newsletter where I discussed how much I loved the Barbie film, that if you really close your eyes and wish hard enough, you too can be the owner of two ‘I am Kenough’ hoodies for you children. Glorious.
I now work in Birmingham some of the time, and the other week discovered that you can go into the giant public library on Centenary Square at the top of Broad Street, and if you just keep on going up and up and up, there’s an incredible garden on the roof. It’s got amazing and beautiful planting, which is a mad contrast with all the shiny shiny high rise of the city, and views for days. Worth a look if you’re in the city and wondering what to do.
That’s all for this week. Next time (assuming I survive), antics from my upcoming Ibiza trip to celebrate my little sister’s birthday. Your tips, recommendations and invitations to join you on your yacht party all very gratefully received thankyouplease.
About me
I’m Lindsay Butcher and I write words down for a living. [Now with added CORPORATE JOY/PAIN/EXISTENTIAL WOE!!] I’ll write for you too if you like? Commission me to be hilarious on your behalf…
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Like Bryan, I too live in Scotland, wildlife has no fear or concept of close interaction with vehicles.
Ha! Roaring at the swan antics, I live in the west highlands and we regularly have similar standoffs with sheep and cows. Intransigent buggers. Enjoy the kid time, my youngest is off to uni this weekend so I feel both ancient and terrified! Empty nest incoming...