Poisoning Pigeons in the Park

I am such a relaxed chap that I often don't surface until 10 on a Sunday morning. But I did make a bit of noise when I stretched out and knocked over my bedside cabinet. The lamp and half-pint of water (in Portsmouth Beer Festival stubby glass) went on the floor and moistened the carpet somewhat, lucky my evening milk had been taken away.
This after the fireworks at 0500 or thereabouts - well, we think they were fireworks but it sounded like a 3- or 5-gun shoot on the grouse moor.
While he shopped we had breakfast and while he ran we tidied my room enough to get all the Lego out again for the next tower on my table-castle. I settled down for the afternoon and the only way he could get us out of the house was to put on "Terminator".
So we took even more out-of-date cheese biscuits to Canoe Lake to feed the swans, and pigeons and seagulls.
Warming up in the Natural History Museum, we bought some more coloured polished stones and a fossilised shark's tooth, marvelled at the vast array of dead butterflies and pretended to fear the dodgy papier-mache Iguanodon.