Trolling the Queen's Swans

It was a day of wins and fails, let downs and victories. Up at a sensible time for a breakfast of fried chicken ovulations, we hurried south by about 7 roads to keep an appointment with an estate agent about another house we might want to buy.
We looked at the front of it and the house 3 doors up which is where Jof lived in her 2nd year of university in 1953. Then, when we'd stood in the wind and rain for 10 minutes, Jof phoned the agents who said we have no record of the appointment, plus we've sold the house already. Jof was mildly miffed and said some bad things into the phone and we walked on to an antiques shop we'd always wanted to look in.
It was normal-sized but absolutely packed with stuff and you have to go in single file and the doorbell kept ringing because of the wind and we saw practically the same desk that we have and the same Victorian boxes and mirrors and when we DO buy our next house, we totally have to get his wonderful 17th century kitchen dresser unit with original keys and spoon hooks, although it is £2700.
Then Jof hunted for 'For Sale' signs down local roads and I bought 5 sausages in the butchers, for sausages are now decimalized in the Mungleton household, stuff this half-a-dozen lark. Later, he bought a 20mm Oerlikon cartridge from another antique shop and I lazed with biscuits and TV and Minecraft until he said let's use up the out-of-date bread at Canoe Lake.
We had almost a full loaf's worth of bread of 2 different colours (some wholemeal - very healthy for birds) and some leftover rolls. We discovered that the sitting (and paddling) population of swans at Canoe Lake certainly know which side their bread's buttered - wherever humanoids gather with bags.
They massed in front of me and I successfully threw bits of bread right between their wings, on the top. The targeted swan can't retrieve it, so it is pecked to bits by neighbouring swans and they all end up getting quite angry which is improved by all 3 of us chucking bready morsels at once and causing crumbs and confusion, and much mirth to the onlookers as we cackled at the Angry Birds we'd created.
Once we'd run out of upper crust we bogged off home and watched Harry Potter 5 (Order of the Peanuts) after which I burst into tears due to emotional overload. Bud cries during 'Arthur Christmas' and Jof cries during Bambi so I'm in good company. Of course, when I watch Predator 2 I'm all 'Yeah, kill him rarrrg' so I guess it all evens out in the end.