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I took the weight off my feet as my daughter ran to her friend she spotted in the park. I acknowledged her friend’s parents before taking my phone out of my bag. As the girls played I looked up often from my phone to make sure they were okay.

It was a lovely spring day, the air filled with chattering birds and happy children. But there was a constant menace: seagulls. These winged beasters have been the scourge of a number of holidays down the years. And this Saturday they struck again. As I absent-mindedly munched on a pork pie, one of these cantankerous feathered brats took to invading my personal space. Any tactic I used to shoo it away or ignore it rendered futile, until I had attracted the looks of others.

The seagull began pecking at the pork pie as I became more and more exasperated. I vacated the shady spot I had parked myself in to a seagull free zone, waving to my daughter so she knew where I was. Soon, my daughter waved off her friend and I took her to get an ice cream. As we wondered up to see the botanical garden, I realised I was phoneless. I patted myself all over and turned my back pack inside out three times. I was becoming distraught, but my daughter kept me calm.

We retraced our steps and reported it. Finally, I accepted it was gone. Off we trudged to town where I bought a cheap replacement. That pesky bird had robbed me of something personal, but my daughter had restored my faith.

Thankfully, I had a call today to say that the phone had been handed into the park office.

People 1-0 Seagulls.

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