The swan.

Mrs D and me went out with the boy this afternoon on an epic duck feeding mission. We loaded up with as much stale bread as we could carry, and off we set. First stop, Littledown turned out to be a Little on the crowded side with people from all walks of life bombarding anything with feathers in a vain attempt to befriend the humble duck.



We decided a little local knowledge on the duck front would be wisely employed by setting off over the road to the Hospital. A wonderful lake around the back of Bournemouth Hospital provides a perfect resting place for many a run down duck. Unknown to both myself and Mrs D, it also provides the same for one, I repeat one great big bastard of a swan.



At first all seemed well, the little ducks gave the effect of smiling as they took the bread Jack offered in good spirit. Then the swan hoved in to view. Big as a house, hissing like a hissey thing with no intention of backing off. My family in danger, I sprang into action. Without a thought for myself I grabbed the pink rucksack Mr D had just put down and advanced on the beast.



Don't hurt him Mrs D shouted as I lunged toward the big White bastard. Seconds latter the beast turned and plodded off on it's merry way. I'm sure it glanced over it's swan like shoulder and gave me a go get fucked look, but I didn't care. I had protected my family, my work was done.

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