Reflections on poetry, alarms, and magpies
Abou Ben Adam (may his tribe increase)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight of the room,
An angel writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adam bold.
— Leigh Hunt, 1834
This poem came to mind the other night – surprising me, although not entirely out of the blue.
I first learned it at school more than 70 years ago, and suddenly, there it was again, stirring from the depths of memory.
I was lying in bed, drifting through blissful dreams, the night cool and silent, the blinds drawn tight against the chill. Then a voice startled me awake.
“Your Live Life Alarm needs charging.”
Every four days, it reminds me that its battery is low.
It never chooses a convenient hour, but it does keep me mindful of time slipping by, of life inching towards its pointy end.
It made me think about all the devices we have today that measure or remind us of time.
Beyond clocks and watches – of which most homes have at least a dozen – there are stoves,
microwaves, air fryers, TVs, computers, phones, and alarms, all telling us when to look, move, eat or rest.
One of my favourite sayings is, “There is always, always, another way to do something.”
A fine example comes from my own village, where a magpie has been terrorising walkers by the river.
Most people wear hats, wave branches, or avoid the path altogether. But one man, walking calmly with his dog, carried no defence.
As the magpie swooped, he simply scattered a handful of bread. The bird diverted to the crumbs, and the man strolled on, magpie-free.
I never would have thought of that. But it proved my point: there’s always another way
