Monday June 29
Please excuse me. I’m going to be a bit autobiographical. A year ago, I was told I was no longer writing for The Times. A bit of blow, that, after 34 years. But you rise above such things, or at least you try to. That’s been sort of the theme of the last 12 months.
Every year for just about the last 30, toward the end of June I’ve headed down to London, SW19 to cover Wimbledon and it’s been great. Wimbledon became something of a signature event. I did it last year in a mood of defiance. I could have stayed home sulking but I thought I’d go there and show the world that I was still functioning.
This year, I was nowhere near the place. This Monday I was on a boat on a heaving, swelling chunk of the Channel, somehow finding the nerve to jump from it onto a chunk of rock. I then found even more nerve – it took some looking for, I’m ashamed to say – to shin up 50-odd feet.
Once there I was surrounded by angels. I was in a city of 6,000 breeding pairs of gannets, spear-billed birds each equipped with wings that stretch out for six feet. They sat tight to their nests, lunging with long-snaky necks as I passed.
I was with Alderney Wildlife Trust and they were working on a project to tag gannets, so that their movements can be tracked. This will give us scientific information, and will provide useful evidence if they decide to build a wind farm in the gannets’ favourite foraging area.
I’ll write about that fuller later. In the meantime, bear with me as I sat among gannets, ears full of the sound of them, nose ringing with the scent of them, while above me they manoeuvred in angelic squadrons and the sea whipped itself into Guinness beneath us all.
Had this been a novel or a film you’d have had to cut this sequence. Too obvious. Too melodramatic. Too much plonking symbolism about freedom and joy and the dear thrill of doing your bit for the cause.
But this was real life and you can get away with such things. They may have been hitting furry balls in Wimbledon, but I was away with the fairies, away with the gannets, away with the angels.
And I felt a joy that I shan’t attempt to describe. But then I don’t think I need to. Not here, dear reader, not here.
Truly pleased you found yourself among the Gannets
I miss your Wimbledon tick list
Be careful of those rocks as just 3 weeks ago, I too leapt from boat to shore and ended up with a broken hip.
The upside? Gives you more time sitting still watching birds!
Stephen
Thought about you remembering your bird count and your walk to “work” and missed your beautiful writing – and I can’t stand Wimbledon!
Missed the pigeon count and the odd Jay but reckon you have moved on and I cherish the memories but am enthralled by the new adventures
Still missing your exquisite writing in the Times
I echo the sentiments of the earlier comments – I used to love your different take on Wimbledon and envy you the pleasure of being able to enjoy two great pleasures simultaneously, whilst being paid, to boot.
No balls, please.
“Away with the Gannets” would be a wonderful title for… something.
I have never missed you more than during Wimbledon. I saw you there once and couldn’t wait to read what you thought of the match we watched at the same time. Let’s have a few more sporty blogs please, for old times’ sake.
It’s the Time Readers Loss and if i were as influential and well off as those types that whisper darkness into the ears of the powerful i would buy you a full page advertisement in every newspaper to let them know your voice still sings.
I miss you in The Times. Mr Syed is a poor replacement
Hi Simon,
After any match at Wimbledon, I always look forward to your incredible critique of the match. The only sports writer who can say ” she flicked her blond hair” or of course had her usual attitude. Well you know what I mean.
The London Times has lost a lot of respect from their readers. Sport is so important. No one has the flair you have.
Why in the world , if the London Times wanted to down size decide to eliminate the chief sports writer?
It’s as if a family wanted to cut their expenses, they decide to sell their youngest born male! Seriously!
The elevator doesn’t go to the top at that meeting.
I am sure Wimbledon misses you.
No one could account for stupidity.
We will move on, and now I have no reason to ever read The London Times.
Best summer to you and your family
Honey Starr
I reiterate Honey Star’s comments. I’m with you Honey!
The Times made a big mistake. I don’t follow sport, but I always read your columns because you wrote about the spirit of sport rather than merely what had happened.
HI Simon, I do know how you felt. Been in a very similar situation which than brought me to the UK to work on. I am still working and after you left, had to leave, The Times, all your resorts where over sudden unimportant, still are. If there has been a writer catching my imagination it was YOU. Miss that but do love the “off-shore” writer too. Do feel free to enjoy your newborn life as I enjoy your blog about it. Happy summer xxx P.S. tks to opening my eyes to wildlife.
Thank you for a lovely message, I hope you’re still enjoying the wild world.
Whenever I see Nadal I still recall “if you were in a fight with him you would have to kill him”. Sadly no longer true but a wonderful picture. Sorely missed
Wimbledon is the only sporting event I watch avidly and I missed, so badly, knowing what you thought after the Murray/Federer match. The Times was mad to “let you go” but thank you for this blog. It helps me sense of the world at times.