Pleasant Pheasant

I had a virtual staff meeting yesterday. It was a strange experience for me. So far, I’ve completely avoided Zoom, Skype, House Party and Google Hangout/chat. I tried them all out to see if I could teach with them but the sound lag was too tricky. I’m easily distracted and so I’m not sure I was properly concentrating. There were lots of people in the meeting and I had accidentally turned on subtitles so spent most of the time chuckling to myself at the interpretations of an Essex accent.

I was a little worried about it before. I always worry that I’m not doing enough or not doing what I do well enough and feared exposure. It was reassuring, though, to see my colleagues onscreen. 

One of the things we are being asked to do is CPD. So far, I’ve concentrated on the child protection stuff (which is quite depressing) and music things. I’ve been trying to learn birdsong. I’m not sure if that’s a valid use of my time but many composers and conductors have been obsessed with birdsong over time. Developing fine listening skills must be good for a music teacher (that’s what I’m telling myself, anyway). I probably do need to start getting back to reality because at one moment I found myself thinking, as the headteacher was talking,

“He’s a very pleasant pheasant.”

Mental health (or men hawl elfs, if you were watching the subtitles) came up as a topic in our staff meeting. How do you look after your mental health in these challenging times? It is a challenge that faces leaders of companies, whose staff are working from home. It’s a tricky thing for managers to manage. The last thing they need is a bunch of nutcases returning to work. It’s also not possible for them to worry about the mental health of their whole workforce and they have to look after their own first.

For me, the daily walk is the most important thing. Sometimes I can feel that my brain is a bit Swiss-cheesy and know it’s time for a walk. As more people have started to walk, I have been pushed to more remote routes and I am reminded of my childhood; roaming edges of country fields, while my mum painted a farmhouse, a kestrel or a field of oil seed rape. You can go out angry, grumpy, confused, sad , anxious or just completely stuck in your head and as you walk you become grounded. Just before you’ve walked enough (and this will be different for everyone, which is why the government hasn’t set a limit on how long you can exercise for) your head fills with cotton wool.

 It is the most bizarre sensation but you have to keep going because then all of a sudden it lifts, you are back to a more pleasant pheasant version of yourself and you can go home.

Before the staff meeting I had taken my daughter with me. She had woken up a bit grumpy and I didn’t want her day off to be spoilt. As we walked, I got more excited about the birds I saw and heard. 

“That’s a big duck,” she said, pointing at a goose.

I’m not sure I’ve passed my love of nature on.

“Oh look! A skylark! I haven’t seen a skylark since 1973!”

“Noisy, aren’t they?” she said, pretending to be interested.

“Chiff-Chaff, Chiff-Chaff,” I sang back at the hedge.

“You really are mad, aren’t you?” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“No. I’m wrong. It sounds like a squeaky wheel. It’s a Great Tit!”

She didn’t say it but I could hear her thinking, “I’m with a great tit.”

We walked along the farm track and watched the farm dog - a black springer spaniel, do its thing, as the farmer walked the wheat. She bounced in and out of the crops, having the best time, flushing pheasants as she went.

“That’s a pleasant pheasant,” I said before bursting into song.

I’m not a pheasant plucker, 

I’m only a pheasant plucker’s son,

I’m only plucking pheasants,

‘til the pheasant plucker comes.

I wonder how that would come out on google hang out’s subtitles?