I am so furious, I could throttle someone, and may do that before the day is out.
We live in a lovely estate of old railway cottages in London. We are very lucky to have a great community here and also good facilities - there's a kids' playground just a few minutes from where I live. Me and DS (17 months) like to walk there and see what we can see along the way.
So guess what we see this morning - a group of teenagers sitting on the climbing frame. Just as we get in, one of them chucks a bottle. Smash, it goes all over the little adventure playground which is DS's favourite thing to climb on.
So I demand: "Who threw that?"
Mutter, mutter, 'wasn't me'.
So I deliver the following monologue:
- I don't give a toss who threw it, actually. I'm going to have a go at all of you.
- How DARE YOU throw bottles in a kids' playground
- You're a bunch of pathetic, cowardly morons and you should be fecking ashamed of yourselves.
- I've taken pics of you on my phone and I'm going to report you to the council and to the police.
- Hope when you have kids you'll never have to tell them sorry, darling, you can't play on there because it has broken glass all over it.
I then march off with a screaming DS under my arm who can't understand why he can't play on the adventure playground.
I went back ten minutes later. They had all gone. I think I scared them off.
So I currently feel a mixture of utter elation that I faced down ten large teenagers, insane fear about what could have happened, and guilt for swearing in front of DS.