Diversions Manifold

A short and not excessively dramatic story of loss and gain Some seemingly random and certainly uninvited bugs ganged up to cause me quite a hefty a throat infection this week, with the usual range of symptoms that such an ailment entails: difficulty in swallowing, running a temperature, lethargy - and more or less losing my voice. That I could still just about speak made things interesting to observe on one front. Since I've been having to speak “around” the swelling, I have automatically reverted to my most relaxed, my most sonorous voice - but for some reason not my most natural. I’ve been noticing of late how I have developed, especially at work, a sharp-edged “scratch” to my voice. It's almost certainly a subconscious attempt to project my voice through the hubbub and grandstanding of the office environment, in a similar way to how city birds have increased their pitch and volume to overcome the ever louder traffic and general background noise of the city. This may e

Stopping for a minute recently from our cross-country skiing in the middle of a snowy Black Forest and listening to the near silence - yes, really listening - was an exquisite experience that reminded me how seldom we get to enjoy the absence of noise. To me it felt strongly of the silence being a clean, fresh and eminently restful pillow for my ears and thence to my brain.   Of course, it was but a fleeting experience and of course we were soon scraping and poking, huffing and puffing, snow-squeaking and technical clothing rustling through the forest, but those few moments of silence, interspersed with the occasional thud of snow falling off the branches and even a timid soundbite of birdsong, provided me with memories that are far more powerful than the photos could ever reproduce.

On Saturday we decided to cycle into town. Our three year-old (coming on four) had her new bike, our three month-old hovered in her hammock in the Chariot cycle trailer. The sun shone and we rolled into Heidelberg happy and proud. Then we went shopping. On a Saturday. It was of course very busy; we knew that it would be and planned for a nice hot chocolate reward in Schiller's . In our experience it had been an oasis of calm where one could take time to enjoy a nice or unusual (sometimes both) hot chocolate and a home-made cake. Unfortunately, Schiller's has become too popular. We were able to sit down and order, but the level of noise in there was unbearable. Our baby added to that by crying and not being able to settle for a feed. People looked at us, we looked at them. We paid for our chocolates and left as quickly as we could, not having enjoyed it at all. There was music beating in the background and conversation was stuck in a feedback loop of ever-increasing volume.