Last week Jacqueline Deeks made a very strong point about foul language, albeit to some extent, a rather harsh one.
Such unpleasant language has become the accepted norm in pubs, town centres, cafés, on TV shows and, I guess, in many homes and work places.
I have been known to let fly when, in the privacy of my bedroom, I have stubbed my toe on a bed leg or dropped my breakfast toast on the floor and it has landed butter side down, but I believe them to be acceptable exceptions and my very own business.
Not so in public places though. My son and daughter chose to visit a pub to watch the Sweden v England match but returned long before half-time because the loud and foul language used by one or more of the customers was far too salty for them and there were young children in the room.
• A very pleasant late evening walk along the prom and happy to see that much of the ugly new sewer system piping has gone and it should not be too many days now before the massive task is completed and the promenade back to normal.
Sadly, the little ringed plover’s nest I discovered recently has vanished just as did last year’s.
Dopey bird, didn’t learn that dogs, gulls and crows have little respect for such silliness and folk who would wish them no harm are totally unaware of their rocky, twiggy little nest which relies solely on camouflage for protection.
• Silly season for animals? A friend of mine discovered a tortoise in her garden and when she went to pick it up it bit her. According to its owner, it was looking for a mate.
My son’s encounter with a homing pigeon in an expensive wine shop, the bird was intent on destroying the place.
I topped that one with the tale of the peacock exploring Littlehampton town centre and my yarn about Horace the herring gull.
Last winter I befriended a young gull with a damaged leg, in fact he or, perhaps, it was a she, could only stand on one leg. He became very tame and fed from my hand. Over the weeks the leg mended and I stopped feeding him.
Eventually he gave up and stopped pecking on my kitchen window. He returned last week and again I ignored him and then, a few days ago, he returned and affected a limp. I didn’t fall for it and have not seen him since but, are they really that smart?
• Three weeks ago, and yet again today, I stared long and hard at a badly vandalised sapling in St Winifred’s Road, a flowering cherry I think.
I have to ask myself why, why oh why? What possible pleasure could the culprit have gained from such a pointless act?
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