Seagulls are stupid. A pair had laid an egg on top of a church steeple near where I live, and, sure enough in true saw-it-a-mile-off glory, as soon as the chick was able to waddle
around, it fell off. Saw it waddling around on the grass last night, it’s mother trying to find a way to get it back up.
She – later joined by her partner and a couple of other gulls – soon came to try to see us off before we could formulate a plan to rescue the chick from potentially becoming a cat’s
dinner. Ah well; we have an oversupply of seagulls anyway. Perhaps letting this one get munched (assuming any cat dares try to get past the big mommy gull!) makes up, in some strange
and twisted cosmic karma, for the bastard gulls who shredded my bin bags back on the 24th June. Perhaps not.
Woken at 7am this morning by an irate Welsh fishmonger repeatedly ringing my doorbell. Apparently a swarm of ravenous seagulls invaded the street two hours prior and shredded my bin
bags, scattering my litter across the street, and this was obviously entirely my fault because I shouldn’t have put my bin bags out the night before. I explained that I put them out the
night before because I had no intention of being up this early, but I don’t think he saw the irony.
Went out with bin bags and cleared up, while he glared from across the street and complained about the laziness of the youth of today.
I passed at least half a dozen other pillaged rubbish piles on my way to get a lift to work. It’s no wonder the gulls around here are so big, what with the heavy diet of human trash