My inner peacock

Peacocks are beautiful but haughty. St Epiphanius knew this when he told his peacock fable. His fables were published in 1588 in Antwerp by Christopher Plantin in the catchily titled Sancti Patris Nostri Epiphanii, Episcopi Constantiae Cypri, ad Physiologum. Eiusdem in die festo Palmarum sermo, or stories about St Epiphanius for short. The fable tells how the Peacock lets out a cry of horror when he catches sight of his appallingly ugly feet.

Tomorrow I go to hospital to have the plaster cast removed from my left leg. I have not seen my foot for six weeks, nor has it been washed, nor has the natural process of skin shedding and regeneration been allowed to take place. I have glanced with trepidation (and a torch) beneath the plaster on my foot - what I have seen is scaly, reptilian even.

I am not known for having a particular pride in my appearance but if, on Thursday, you are driving along Rochdale Rd, Oldham near to the hospital and hear a scream shortly after 14.15h do not be alarmed; it might just be me getting in touch with my inner peacock.

Sounds of Sunday

This post title sounds a bit like a Radio 2 Sunday evening show with Reverend Roger Royle: it's not. Yesterday I sat in the garden and, as an exercise, listed the sounds I could hear as a way of contemplating what the day consisted of. I've been thinking about soundscapes recently; thinking about the sounds that create the backdrop for our lives. Sound has always played a big part in my life, not least because music has always been important; but birdsong too is important; and I think I am more likely to be able to remember and describe the sound of something than its appearance . I'm struck by how many blogs are highly visual; in fact I doubt I'd do a post without a photograph to catch the eye. I guess that's the nature of our computers: the screen is a purely visual interface between us and cyberspace.

So, what did a Sunday in suburban Oldham sound like? Here are the sounds of Sunday:

• Birdsong- building up to the breeding season many birds are warming up their syrinxes to impress potential mates; particularly, there was a young Mistle Thrush who is learning the song of his species but hasn't got it quite right yet.
• Ice cream van with an electronic chime of Colonel Bogey that sounded like a bad mobile phone ring-tone
  
• The sound of gardening: this was a nice sound, a trowel crunching in earth as V. weeded out ornemental grass that has germinated inappropriately over the winter (this sound is accompanied by the lovely smell of freshly turned earth)
  
• Jet aircraft banking overhead on the incoming flight path to Manchester Airport
• Off-road motorcycles in the distance, over at the disused Springhead quarry I guess, better there than on the nearby bridal paths that they sometimes go on, annoying we dog walkers
• Pressure washer nearby - a neighbour washing his car; the washer is not the run of the mill DIY size washer but is a substantial professional affair; one that gives sufficient potency to the pressure lance to match the symbol of virility it is washing (even though the car is gleaming already)
• Lawn raking: the sound of a neighbour who, like me, is a little incredulous at having to start thinking about the lawn this early in the year
• The rustle of Eucalyptus leaves in the breeze - a neighbour's tree that I always wish was a native one

I found this process quite relaxing but was also surprised at how much it made me think about the distinction between noise and sound; I guess noise is simply unwelcome sound but it also defines a view of life too: I found the power washer intrusive, but perhaps my neighbour hates being woken early by birdsong.

What sounds define your life?