FOWC with Fandango: Silence

Crows 27.10 (6)

We are surrounded by silence: by forests and a river. Even traffic on the road does not disturb us. We have a motorway for the noisy stuff at a distance. The only noise we have are the crows that gather in their colony. One crow says let’s go and they all go together, with a group caw of course. Now and again the magpies join in, but they snatter more than caw.

During the night silence spreads itself over the land. If you have problems with sleeping it is usually the sound of silence that disturbs.

I grew up in London, in the middle where the lorries thunder on the roads and there is never a quiet moment. Perhaps that is the reason why noise does not really bother me. I can switch off and not hear any noise. Now I have the sounds of nature, natural, and not manmade. I enjoy it. The worst is the morning alarm. Why an alarm when I am a golden oldie and am not going anywhere? That is obvious, otherwise I would probably sleep all day enjoying the silence of my world.

FOWC with Fandango

Daily Prompt: Where there is silence there is no noise


It was silent in the home. you could hear a crumb drop from the bread that had just been cut for breakfast. No-one spoke, it was too early for converstions that could change the world. Everyone was busy with their own thing, and then the noise began.

Mr. Swiss was busy completing the change of the linen in the bedroom. That is not really a noisy job. It could be accompanied with murmers of dissatisfaction when making the beds, due to strenuous actions applied when making the bed. Mrs. Angloswiss was busy with the daily inspection tour of the appartment thinking about visiting the bathroom when Mr. Swiss was finished. She had also began to plan the cleaning of a few windows.

The doorbell rang. It was not the postman because he always rings twice, it was an unexpected caller. In the meanwhile Mr. Swiss had switched on the vaccum claner to remove the dust remainders from beneath the bed. He does a thorough job. Mrs. Angloswiss called, not once but twice, no three times and she has a very loud voice, even when she is quiet. The vacuum cleaner continued on its noisy way, killing the silence with its high-powered decibels and she was ignored.

To discover who was ringing the doorbell, one of the persons in question had to leave the appartment to arrive at the main entrance door to the building. There is a buzzer that can be operated which automatically gives a voice communication to the person waiting at the door, but the decibels were rising in the meanwhile and this would not work. There was only one solution, to remove the plug of the vacuum cleaner from the socket. There was instant silence, no vacuum cleaner motor running, and there was only the astonished murmers from Mr. Swiss, who was convinced that the vacuum cleaner had ceased to work.

In the meanwhile drastic action was needed, the door was opened and Mrs. Angloswiss appear at the main door,  clad only in a nightdress covered with a colourful full length kaftan bought in a market shop in Marrakesh in Morocco. She decided to appear in person at the main door, as Mr. Swiss was still not answering calls of despair and still examining the problem with the vacuum cleaner.

It was the gardening lady that had to complete some work at the main entrance door. She had to wedge the door open and needed help.

Mrs. Angloswiss returned to the appartment and Mr. Swiss was waiting at the door. “What happened?” asked a worried Mrs. Swiss. Mrs. Angloswiss clarified the mystery. Afterwards silence reigned in the appartment, the vacuum cleaner remained still. Even if the postman had called and rang twice, no-one would have heard him.

Daily Prompt: Where there is silence there is no noise

Daily Prompt: Shhhhhhhhhhhh

Stauffacher Book shop, English dept., Bern
There are places where you feel you should be silent, quiet, not make too much noise.

Bookshops are one of them. It is better to browse quietly, not disturbing the others that are carefully turning pages in the books they might want to buy. They are concentrating, searching for the book of their choice. It was recommended by a good friend, or perhaps you are buying it for a friend’s birthday, but you have to concentrate, be sure this is the one you wanted.

After leaving the book store you go to the bank. These used to be temples of silence and concentration. Today if you need real money, the stuff made of paper, all you have to do is tap on the numbers on the money machine and the notes appear. It is better to do this in silence: concentrate on your pin no. and do not make movements with your mouth whilst doing it. There might be a lip reader near that reads the secret numbers from your lips.

Perhaps you have a money transaction to make, for which you need to enter the bank. Take a numer from a machine (or not) and wait for the number to light up over the counter. Then you can approach, silently, it is all written in the illuminated numbers. It is now your turn. The bank clerk meets your eyes, you attempt a smile and she might say “hello” but not more. You are speaking through a glass window and hope the bank clerk can read your lips. After all you do not want to speak loudly, you are on holy ground, a bank, and it is better to remain low key.  Somehow with your motions and sign language everything is understood: you sign next to the “X” and the work is finished. At last you are released from your vowel of bank silence.

In the worst possible case you now have to take a train to another city. The train arrives, you already have your ticket, and so you enter the compartment. You have a mobile telephone with you and call you partner to inform him that after buying your nephew’s book in the book shop and transferring the money to your savings account at the bank, you are now on your way home. Suddenly you notice that everyone in the carriage in the train is staring at you. Did you forget to fasten the buttons on your blouse? Perhaps you are wearing a black shoe on the right foot and a brown one on the left. Suddenly the lady sitting opposite you on the train touches you to get your attention. She points at your mobile phone and makes a sign, covering her lips with her fingers. The lady next to you points with her finger to a sign. You discover you have selected a carriage known as a “zone of silence” where no-one is allowed to speak and where mobile telephones are undesirable, forbidden – a weapon attacking the silent places. You have committed an unforgiven crime. Here silence reigns.

You discontinue your conversation with the partner immediately. He is now worried. Has his wife been attacked? Did someone steal her new iPhone type 7? Suddenly the phone rang, it was his wife.

“Sorry dear, but I had to hang up immediately, I was in one of those silent carriages on the train and did not notice it. It was very embarrassing. I had to change carriages where I could speak freely. ”

“And you dared to disturb me?”

“I only wanted to inform you that everything went well this morning.”

“Yes, well an important cup match is now on the TV. Call me in about 2 hours when it is finished. I cannot concentrate if I have to listen to you.”

“But, I only wanted …….” The telepbone was dead.  There is not enough silence today, and it has to be kept under control somehow.

Daily Prompt: Shhhhhhhhhhhh

Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence

We’re asking you to make “silence” a presence in your post

Ribbet Edit

There is a garden just across the path. It was a garden with vegetables, flowers, trees, bushes: a garden to please the eye, a reward for the gardener. It is now a quiet garden; there is no longer a gardener. It is now a garden of silence.

I called my father last week he is now 98 years old.

“Hello dad”

“Hello Pat”

“How are you keeping?”


“How are you keeping?” my voice was a few decibels louder.


“No dad, I mean HOW ARE YOU KEEPING.”

Mr. Swiss calls from another room. “Do you have to shout like that when you call your father?”

“Yes, he cannot hear me.” And then my dad reacts.

“OK, just the same, just the same.”

“Dad are you wearing your hearing aid.”



“No, it’s no good. I cannot be bothered, it doesn’t help.”

and so the conversation continues. I tell him that my husband has problems with his back. “Yes” he answers, and after a while he asks me how my husband’s back is.”

My husband tells me when I have finished with my call, “I think the complete neighbourhood probably heard the conversation.”

My father lives in silent country.

There are many forms of silence. A silence that no longer exists and a silence that it’s owner does not realise it exists.

I once had to travel by train. I entered the carriage and took my phone to inform my husband I was on my way. The lady sitting opposite, suddenly put her fingers to her lips. I looked at her with bewilderment. What was wrong? She pointed to a sign on the wall of the carriage saying “Quiet Zone”. It seems that in this carriage quiet was to be observed at all times. It was a carriage for the readers, the sleepers, the “zombies?”. It was not the carriage for me, so I left as soon as I arrived and moved to the next carriage where there were human beings, people that lived and breathed, that spoke to each other. I decided a world with silence was not my world.

One day I will move on to a quiet world where my garden no longer exists, where I will have eternal silence. I might move on to a deaf world with a hearing aid, but I hope I do not move on to a world of silent compartments in a train.

Weekly Challenge: The Sound of Silence