Stories of the Street - Forty eight

A bird lands on a chimney pot, high above the street.

It sings.

It displays a wonderful array of notes, running up and down different scales, cutting across a number of different tune settings, effortlessly.

It is such a small bird and it has repeated much of what it is singing on a number of different perches throughout the morning. But here is its best perch. Here it excels, lifting its voice high, letting releasing everything as it begins to sing beyond its best. The bird is in a high state of ecstasy, revelling in the songs it is producing.

In a small flat two floors below the bird’s song is reverberating throughout the room and its occupier is worried that a bird is trapped behind the gas fire within the fireplace. After frantically trying to remove the panel that holds the fire in place she ‘phones up the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds and explains her problem.

The voice on the other end of the line is very calm and helpful.

She takes the ‘phone to the room and the person listens carefully.

It is alright, she assures the caller, this is normal.

The bird in question is using the chimney as an amplifier. It is perched in the chimney pot, singing to its heart’s content.

After she puts the ‘phone down the woman picks up her keys and leaves the flat.

Outside, she walks along the road and crosses to the other side. She looks up and sees a tiny figure moving around, bobbing up and down, and singing with a voice much louder than its size could ever merit.

That’s what happens when you take the day off. Some damn bird gets in the way and disturbs the peace!

She begins to laugh as she walks to the newsagent to buy a newspaper.