I always get a bit sad and melancholy when walking home in the rain and seeing a toddler’s handmade playgroup card or picture in the gutter, bleeding its joyous primary colours into the dampness. Why was it discarded? Was it accidentally lost when a busy parent was rushing to get home, or was the child so unnattached to it that they just dropped it on purpose? Will there be briefly inconsolable tears of disappointment on realising the precious artwork is lost forever, to remain as a mere memory? Or is it just a sad indictment of a selfish and increasingly crapulent society that places no store in simple innocent beauty? Or am I forced to accept with growing certainty, that I am a soppy old fool filled with mawkishly sentimental nostalgia for a time that never truly existed. Oh yes. That’s it. The last one!