Magpies...
By bitingmylip
I am being stalked by magpies.
Everywhere I go lately, there they are. Lone magpies perched in trees, on top of electricity pylons, on windowsills. Omens of sorrow that force me to mumble under my breath, ‘hello Mr Magpie, how’s Mrs Magpie?’ or ‘hello Mr Magpie, how’s the wife and children?’ depending which version I prefer on the given day.
And you’re supposed to salute lone magpies as well. So when I see one of them, I put my right hand to my head and make a surreptitious little salute. I pretend to scratch my forehead first, and then move my hand away sharply. I don’t know if anyone is fooled. Especially when I’m also mumbling under my breath at the same time. Mostly I’m sure they think I’m a bit eccentric. Lots of my friends aren’t even aware that a magpie on its own is supposed to be a harbinger of doom. Or sorrow, at least. But my Mum used to sing that little rhyme that goes,
‘One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy.
Five for silver,
Six for gold
Seven for a secret
Never to be told.’
I think she remembered it from a TV show she used to watch when she was little. But apparently it’s also a nursery rhyme. I don’t know where it came from or why it refers specifically to magpies, but I’ve always been a bit superstitious about it. Not over the top superstitious. Just not walking-under-a-ladder superstitious. It would be like tempting fate not to salute or mumble when I see one of those cocky little bastards poking around in the grass. I just know the day I walk past one, on its own, without responding – well, that day will undoubtedly bring me some form of sorrow. I think that’s what they call the law of Sod.
It’s not just the solitary ones that are stalking me, though. I keep seeing groups of them everywhere. Today I walked past a big expanse of green nothingness next to a busy road and it was littered – littered – with them. I counted nine. Nine! The rhyme doesn’t even go up to nine. So what does that mean? Seven for a secret plus two for joy? Will I soon be receiving some form of joy that I’ll have to keep secret? Or maybe I’ll stumble on someone else’s secret and it will give me great joy. Still, at least with nine, there’s no need for the mock-salute or the mumbled phrase. Nine is ok. Nine is fine, in fact.
But I do mean it when I say they’re everywhere lately. I think they must be multiplying at rapid speed in this country. I can’t think of a single day lately when I haven’t seen one, or two, or nine. Today I was on a train and I saw a couple flying joyously through the air, circling back to land in a field. Sadly, nothing joyous has happened to me as yet, but you never know. There they were, flashing glimpses of white against coal black. I stared at them through the slightly distorting train window. I hate those train windows. When you go through a tunnel your face looms back at you and you can’t help but look at it. I always look so pale and ill. I’m sure I don’t look like that in real life.
But who knows. Perhaps I do. Perhaps mine is the face of sorrow, hence the magpie stalking.
I am being stalked by magpies.
Everywhere I go lately, there they are. Lone magpies perched in trees, on top of electricity pylons, on windowsills. Omens of sorrow that force me to mumble under my breath, ‘hello Mr Magpie, how’s Mrs Magpie?’ or ‘hello Mr Magpie, how’s the wife and children?’ depending which version I prefer on the given day.
And you’re supposed to salute lone magpies as well. So when I see one of them, I put my right hand to my head and make a surreptitious little salute. I pretend to scratch my forehead first, and then move my hand away sharply. I don’t know if anyone is fooled. Especially when I’m also mumbling under my breath at the same time. Mostly I’m sure they think I’m a bit eccentric. Lots of my friends aren’t even aware that a magpie on its own is supposed to be a harbinger of doom. Or sorrow, at least. But my Mum used to sing that little rhyme that goes,
‘One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy.
Five for silver,
Six for gold
Seven for a secret
Never to be told.’
I think she remembered it from a TV show she used to watch when she was little. But apparently it’s also a nursery rhyme. I don’t know where it came from or why it refers specifically to magpies, but I’ve always been a bit superstitious about it. Not over the top superstitious. Just not walking-under-a-ladder superstitious. It would be like tempting fate not to salute or mumble when I see one of those cocky little bastards poking around in the grass. I just know the day I walk past one, on its own, without responding – well, that day will undoubtedly bring me some form of sorrow. I think that’s what they call the law of Sod.
It’s not just the solitary ones that are stalking me, though. I keep seeing groups of them everywhere. Today I walked past a big expanse of green nothingness next to a busy road and it was littered – littered – with them. I counted nine. Nine! The rhyme doesn’t even go up to nine. So what does that mean? Seven for a secret plus two for joy? Will I soon be receiving some form of joy that I’ll have to keep secret? Or maybe I’ll stumble on someone else’s secret and it will give me great joy. Still, at least with nine, there’s no need for the mock-salute or the mumbled phrase. Nine is ok. Nine is fine, in fact.
But I do mean it when I say they’re everywhere lately. I think they must be multiplying at rapid speed in this country. I can’t think of a single day lately when I haven’t seen one, or two, or nine. Today I was on a train and I saw a couple flying joyously through the air, circling back to land in a field. Sadly, nothing joyous has happened to me as yet, but you never know. There they were, flashing glimpses of white against coal black. I stared at them through the slightly distorting train window. I hate those train windows. When you go through a tunnel your face looms back at you and you can’t help but look at it. I always look so pale and ill. I’m sure I don’t look like that in real life.
But who knows. Perhaps I do. Perhaps mine is the face of sorrow, hence the magpie stalking.
posted by bitingmylip at 1:41 PM
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