Honkin’ and screamin’ and gettin’ merry like Christmas
The geese of Lordship Rec walk in a single line past the Chinese-looking guy listening to songs in Mandarin or Cantonese whilst working out on the rowing machine. The animals walk straight on to the short, parched, dried-out grassland surrounding the outdoor gym.
Unlike the ex-dance tutor throwing some salsa moves on the turf and looking to get her morning exercises done in an hour, the geese of Lordship Rec will spend the day grazing, foraging for food, pecking here and there.
The two Asian-looking blokes conversing in Hindi or Gujarati pay no attention to one of the geese of Lordship Rec making its feelings known about a real (or imagined) threat against its female partner. Its neck stretches out and loud honks echo around the park.
My trainee, a grandmother from Algeria who always greets me by stressing the “o” in my name and rolling the “r”, is unaware of the waterfowl behind her and its penchant for land instead of water.
The Rasta guys shouting “Ya mon!” from a distance to all and sundry don’t know that the geese of Lordship Rec will probably live a quarter of a century. With so many predators around (foxes and owls, for instance), their winged friends might welcome a bit of the old “Don’t worry about a thing/’Cause every little thing gonna be all right” positive mindset attitude.
Sadly, the geese of Lordship Rec can’t solve Marvin Gaye’s grapevine conundrum. They are known to be monogamous for life. Unlike the soul singer, whose voice blasts out of the speakers in the Hub, the volunteer-run café, the geese of Lordship Rec don’t get jealous or give ultimatums.
Later on, the geese of Lordship Rec will fly off in a V formation. The routine hardly ever changes. When the leader gets tired, another goose will take over. Those flagging a bit will be encouraged to pick up speed.
And we will look at them. At least, some of us will. We will raise our heads and look at the geese of Lordship Rec in wonder.
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