The population of my lovely coastal town

Swells considerably during the summer months

We receive guests from all over the country and far beyond

And although an acquired taste

I rather like their imported habits

This said I am not that keen on their ill mannered brats

Who motivated by the sins of greed and avarice

Destroy the calmness of all our local beaches

They all seem to be plugged

Into the Super National Grid

The other day when walking kindly

Along our beautiful coastal path

I had the regret of meeting

Lorimer and Jardine from Aberdeen

Lorimer the younger of the two had been given a glider

And he was deliberately terrorising his cousin Morag

By flying his plastic toy at head height

And then it happened

As although the breezes were quite benign

A sudden gust of wind directly from the Azores

Caught the small glider

It flew over sea wall and past a line of memorial benches

Directly into the path of the number eighty-five

There was a sickening sound of plastic and white wood

Being crushed beneath the wheels of the open topped bus

Without any regard for his own safety

Lorimer ran blindly towards the road

I was just ringing the undertakers

When his father grabbed his arm

Crude Scottish words beyond my understanding

Were offered and understood

The young child then burst into hysterical tears

As he looked at the remains of his much loved toy

Jardine and Morag were laughing loudly

Which just made things much worse

And further antagonised Lorimer

The mother who had up to the unfortunate incident

Been quietly working on her watercolour of the sea

Looked up and suggested that the family should replace the glider

As she did not want it to spoil little Lorimers holiday

Thankfully I had strayed out of earshot

When her husband replied