As a north easterner in exile in the Thames Valley, there were two noises I have come to be very familiar with: the sound of traffic, and the sound of aircraft. I live directly under one of the flight paths into Heathrow and although I am thankfully sufficiently far out not to see whether there is chicken or beef on the in-flight menu (a friend who grew up in Langley swears she saw people staring out of the plane windows as a child), the noise of aircraft was my alarm clock, usually getting going at around 5.45am and diminishing in frequency by 11.30pm. I actually grew to love it: most notably Concorde used to roar over the garden twice a day and never failed to excite with its bravura and determination, and is much missed by all citizens of Reading. The sound is so frequent – roughly a plane every 90 seconds when they are coming in over my house – that as one set of engine noise fades the next is starting to rise. You can hear what I can only imagine to be acceleration changes, the sound bouncing hollowly around the sky, and the slow deceleration as they bank and line up. At night you can see five or six aircraft on the eastern horizon, stacking over Heathrow in perfect symmetry. It is rather beautiful, and allows you to daydream about where people may have come from and what they have left behind. When my sister leaves to return to the States I stand in the garden and wave at every plane, just in case.
Since lockdown the early morning thrum of the rush hour across the valley and the aircraft noise have virtually disappeared. New sounds have taken their place: I heard my first cuckoo this year and some of the dawn choruses, always spectacular, have been orchestral, with the blackbirds leading the overture. Sitting on my bench with my early morning tea and watching my bird feeders has been a peaceful joy, and there have been muntjac deer as well as badgers at night too. Animals continue as they always have, regardless of what is happening in the human world – they care not. It is the humans who are at bay, still and silent, and although that is really good in one way I do miss that activity and busy-ness. My hope is that my ears will stay attuned to all the noises of the early Thames Valley morning, both man-made and natural, but maybe with more balance. Less traffic and aircraft and less noise can only be a good thing for our environment and the animals that have made lockdown so much more bearable.
Victoria