Some nature notes from May inspired by Paul McCartney and a singing blackbird.

Paul McCartney once wrote a song about a blackbird singing in the dead of night, apparently after a trip to India. This may or may not be accurate. I’ve never been to India, but in Britain blackbirds don’t sing in the dead of night. They do, however, at the moment, sing at any time between dawn and dusk. Chances are that if you hear a bird singing today it will be a blackbird, in the city, at least. Its languid yet rich and melodious tones are an indelible symbol of early summer. They’ll probably stop quite soon, so listen out. I’ve also heard a thrush singing recently and my local dunnock which sounds like it's on speed, but not much else. Singing that is, not just the regular bird calls. You'll hear plenty of other birds, but less are actually singing now. Keep your ears tuned in.

 The blackbirds have been performing for quite a while now but another sound that symbolizes summer, came just a couple of weeks ago, as it suddenly turned warm. Walking down a quiet street in my neighbourhood, my peace was suddenly interrupted by the screech of three swifts speeding past above my head, piercing the blue summer sky like feathered red arrows. I was delighted for the interruption. This is a special moment because they’ve been away for around nine months so inevitably their welcome return tends to take you by surprise. Out of sight, out of mind. Swifts should be appreciated as they’re only with us for three or four months from May till early August before heading back to Africa. They’ll be loving these blue skies and the warmth. Plenty of insects to eat. Spectacular athletes of the air, they like cities. Well, not all cities. Cities with older buildings in which they can nest. It’s nothing to do with liking the company of humans. Swallows and martins, similarly speedy summer visitors though more vocal and gregarious, tend to prefer the countryside. Wherever you are, look out for one of these species; swifts are larger, faster and darker with half-crescent wings and have that idiosyncratic screech. Not as beautiful as a swallow or a house martin but when you can fly like that who cares. As Billy Connolly once said, “F*ck handsome, rich wins”.

                No-one seems to be talking about the weather, distracted by all the circus of horrors that is unfolding, but looking back on it, it may be seen as equally extraordinary (for different reasons, of course) as the supposedly more ‘newsworthy’ happenings. It’s barely rained in three months. Blue skies have ruled the roost. This, after the wettest February on record. This is not normal. Ultimately the lack of rain will become a problem if it continues but it has been astonishing. Pleasant as it is, however, nature needs and expects water in this country. It’s not the Costa Del Sol. Birds, obviously but also the soil and its inhabitants such as earthworms (sign of a healthy ecosystem) need rain. As do snails, frogs and hedgehogs in our gardens etc. and the plants, of course.

                It has been interesting to observe the changing colours as May has progressed. Early in the month it was mostly blues, purples and pinks: delightful bluebells, purple chive flowers and lavender; the delightful pink campion, a flower of wastelands but also gardens if you let it. Then around mid-month an extraordinary red dahlia-like flower briefly appeared. Yellow, in keeping with the recent hot sunshine, is beginning to appear in the rose bush, and an exotic tree in the garden whose yellow pineapple type flowers prove extremely popular with bees. If you have blackberry (or bramble) bushes, keep an eye out for their pretty white flowers which are currently blooming and are also attractive to bees. Funny that no-one on the press wants to talk about bees or nature in general and its importance to human life. Not remotely funny, actually, it’s despicable. Our culture encourages (as we should) us to cherish and appreciate our mothers, but it’s most unfortunate how badly we treat Mother Nature, both individually and collectively. ‘Mother’s Day’ is a big money spinner, ‘Mother Nature Day’ isn’t. We’re all consumers and therefore all polluters. Individually, we can a make difference in our habits, the products we use and so on. Don’t wait for big business or governments to get involved. There’re unlikely to as long as the priority is profit and shareholders. But let’s not let that discourage us from taking action.

A reflection on May, that most pleasant of months. Cup finals, jousting and birdsong.

“When it’s cold outside, I got the month of May”

The Temptations. ‘My Girl’

Must have been a different type of May when they wrote that. The last few days it has been pretty “Baltic” with the wind literally coming down from the Arctic. I can’t imagine how cold it has felt further north? That said, last Saturday, it was glorious. May at its best, reminding us that summer is pretty much here, though since then it has felt rather different. May is that type of month. Granted it can be chilly, it can be wet, its “rough winds do shake the darling buds” on occasion, to quote Mr Shakespeare, but it can be glorious. The blue sky seems just a little ‘bluer’, the sun a little higher, the trees a little greener. The birds are singing. The dawn chorus is close to reaching its peak. Listen out. Six am is about the best time, if you can manage. The dawn chorus on a clear morning is one of nature’s greatest examples of pure revelry. Exuberant, intense, and powerful, yet poetic at the same time. A cacophony of birdsong blending into one, each song itself being distinguishable. The natural world’s own example of a symphony. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know which birds are singing. In this case, ignorance and bliss, are definitely not mutually exclusive.

                Thinking about May, in general, it is a fascinating month. A month of revelry, colour and exuberance. I personally have never danced around the maypole with gay abandon but I’m sure it’s fun. In medieval days, May was a month for jousting competitions, the period’s equivalent of the cup final. A celebration of athletic prowess, colour and pageantry. I can picture it well: The knights’ colourful shields shining brightly in the sunshine. The magnificent horses in their armour. Pretty damsels with their elaborate headgear. Trumpets blaring. Then the joust, itself. Highly impressive skills. It’s scary and difficult enough galloping on a horse, let alone carrying a fifteen foot pole too. That said, they didn’t have sunglasses, gin and tonic or public toilets in those days so I’m relatively happy to admire it from afar, to preserve the romanticism. I do also question the origin of “damsel in distress”. The toilet facilities - whatever they were - at a joust seem as likely as a lonely castle tower? And talking of cup finals, back in the day before football had become the bloated, global and over-exposed circus it is now, the national cup final (alway in May) was arguably the highlight of the domestic calendar, being one of the only games to be televised live. Unimaginable now. Amongst my favourite football memories are watching the players come out at Hampden park (in Glasgow), fans waving their flags, as the Scottish pipe band - in formation - played away in the middle of the pitch. I also liked the opening to the English cup final at Wembley as the proud managers lead their teams right across the middle of the pitch with the crowd cheering. A little more theatrical the entrance of the English version, methinks. Interesting enough too, it seems to me that the pitch was never greener than on cup final day?

May is also the only month which is a verb as well a name; “May I?”. A polite verb at that. I like May.  It may, in fact, be my favourite month? Well it’s up there. ‘January’ I? Yes you ‘January’, just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Neither does ‘January Jones ‘january’ be my favourite actress.’ Some things are just meant to be. They work. She’s not incidentally, lest you judge me or question my motivations. I did like her in ‘Love Actually’ and ‘Mad Men’ though.

One more observation on the weather. These last couple of months, politicians have talked of a “new normal”. I try not to pay much attention to them but as a reference to the meteorological conditions, it would be quite apt as a description. Since this whole lockdown started the weather has been a bit more akin to Malaga than the UK. Blue, calm skies ruled the roost in most of March, if my memory serves me well. April was apparently the sunniest on record. There, of course, have been some exceptions to this, one very wet and cold week at the end of last month and some cold spells but much of the time, it has been glorious. The gentility and stillness of the weather adding a spooky vibe to the deserted streets. Quite how the summer will pan out in these odd times, we shall have to see, but remember to enjoy the nice days. Don't forget that “summer’s lease hath all too short a date.” May your day be a pleasant one.

A coach journey through the Alps that lead to an epic musical journey.

Whenever I would pop in to see my grandmother in Glasgow’s West end, when I was a student and happened to be wearing something she hadn’t seen before, she would inquire – presumably unimpressed – “is that the fashion?” and I would repeat to her that I had no interest in fashion. A current fashion is to post ten favourite albums, films etc. on social media and say nothing about it. Just post the cover. This is a nice idea, and highly interesting, but as a non-dedicated follower of fashion, I will do it slightly differently. I’ll write about mine. This is not my favourite album, as such, but it’s the one that allowed me to make a connection with music that I hadn’t had before.

In 1987, I was mostly a fan of pop music I suppose, though I did like Prince who was a bit more than pop music. I liked Queen who were certainly more than pop. I liked Frankie Goes to Hollywood, I’m not sure what they were? In 1986, I even bought my one and only Madonna Album, True Blue, a fine collection of pop songs, by any standards. Truthfully, I can’t remember much more than that but in 1987 a record changed my life. I wasn’t a Simple Minds fan, but for some reason, one July day, I wanted to be, though I didn’t know why?

That summer, my mother, brother and I went on holiday to Italy, on a bus … well, a coach. It seemed to take about a week to get there. My only real memories of the journey were the terror of passing through a tunnel in the Alps, wondering if Stefan Edberg had beaten Ivan Lendl at Wimbledon (he hadn’t) and sitting next to a guy – a bit older than me – who had a fancy personal stereo/Walkman type-thing. And he was listening to a cassette of Simple Minds ‘Live in the City of Light’. A live double album released earlier that summer. I was jealous and excited by this, even though I didn’t know the songs. Maybe the elegant black cover intrigued me. I can’t explain, but I wanted to hear it. I wanted access to that private world. Maybe I just wanted a personal stereo (I got one later that year for Christmas, yellow, if I’m not mistaken and I had had one before, lest you think me a deprived child) but there was something about seeing that cassette cover, on that coach, on that sunny day. 

Anyway, a friend at school – who sadly passed away tragically young – had a big brother who was a Simple Minds fan. I must have badgered him incessantly and eventually he got me a copy of the Live Album - on cassette - later that year and it transformed my life. It changed how I feel about music, particularly live music. Thanks to this album and discovering Simple Minds back catalogue, I subsequently discovered their influences such as The Who, Roxy Music, The Doors, U2, David Bowie, Lou Reed, Van Morrison and so on and so on. It essentially opened up my heart and soul to music in general, and musical discovery is a journey that I continue to take.

 Van Morrison once wrote a song called “In the Days Before Rock’n’Roll.” Can you imagine life without it? No Beatles, no Elvis, no Zeppelin, no Marvin Gaye (okay he was Soul, but you get the idea), no Queen, no Springsteen etc? I don’t fancy it, myself. By the time I became a Simple Minds fan they were not remotely fashionable. They were far too successful (commercially) to be fashionable by then, but I don’t really care. With music, as with clothes, no point in asking me, “Is that the fashion?”.  Live and let live when it comes to music, I say. But “Live and Let Die”? Now there’s a tune.