I do not know if these two are gossiping or prospecting for lunch. Recently, despite 150 people living here there are days when, if I do not go shopping, the only living thing I see are birds. I am at the end of one wing of a ‘U’ shaped building, All the flats have balconies. I have the best flat in the place, with a huge ‘L’ shaped terrace. It is all dazzling white, I thought people would flower their terraces and sit out on them. This does not happen. We stayed in a hotel in Budapest which was built in the Russian style, could have been used as a set for ‘Porridge’. We christened it Stalag Luft X. It was perfectly comfortable, just totally soul-less. I was going to call this blog ‘Living in a gilded cage’ which is quite apt.

The birds. We have very few pigeons, but people are paranoiac about them. I have my ‘pets’. I do not encourage them with regular food, they would bring all their mates, and i’d be in trouble.. But the other day, making a smoked salmon sandwich I noticed the salmon, only bought the day before, was four days out of date. I thought of my lovely pair of magpies, it would add to their gloss. I put it on the terrace, then, imagine my surprise, the pigeons came and ate the lot. Now they stare accusingly at me from the railings, expecting caviar I presume. The magpies got bits of chicory I had not cooked enough, good for their digestion. The only other birds are blackbirds, who outdo each other from separate blocks of flats. No idea where they nest or roost, not a tree in sight, but their song always cheers me up.

The ‘Gilded Cage’?  This is what it is. A great friend has just died, she was in a care home in Devon. It cost £85,000 per annum. I pay just over £2,000 per month (do my own food). I have a big living space, small adequate kitchen facilities, lovely bedroom, both look out on my huge terrace, covered in plants, and bathroom. My cleaning and laundry are done. I have a 24 hour surveillance system, via a watch. And, a swimming pool, and a lovely roof garden opposite,  I can just see the hills to the West over  the TGV trains. The Cage? It is, because one is in a ‘cocoon’. No effort is made to integrate with the city. Organisations I have tried are hopeless, young ex-pats fun runs and beer evenings. Public transport is excellent, but my back does not like it. I’ve made overtures to still mobile people, share a taxi, go up to the super area on the River Saone, all the boutiques with books and postcards. No takers. Easter in the Cathedral, no thanks. So, I sit here and write, watch the birds, crash out in the sun and count my blessings. Use your freedom, you may not always have it! 

The Gardener

A Moodscope member