I have been musing lately on the sheer bulk of the seagulls in our back garden and have stopped throwing scraps out for the (other) birds as they have no chance against these dodo-sized creatures.  I didn’t expect to find myself a target for these winged bullies but this morning, walking down a residential street just up from my own, I was dive-bombed by two of them in turn. Now I understand all about protecting their young but their nest was on the roof of a quite tall house and, nimble as I am (not), I am not about to develop the ability to fly or the inclination to steal their eggs.

     Undeterred, they squawked and swooped in repeated fly-pasts inches from my head.  At first, I ducked down behind the buggy before thinking this was not very maternal behaviour.  Then I gave a nervous titter – was this for real?  A fresh draught of air convinced me it was.

     So what did I do?  

     I swung my weighty handbag at them quite sure I would be able to bat one into a parked car.  What then?  I wasn’t sure.  Luckily for us all, I missed and managed to push the buggy further down the road.  Seeing the threat recede, they stopped diving and settled back on their roof.

     I’ve got to pick my daughter up later.  Anyone got a gun?