WHISPERING SMITH: meet Chris Adam Smith, our new columnist

THE other day a certain lady called me a grumpy old man. I told her, not so much of the old – but “grumpy” is good.

I even have “grumpy” emblazoned in red lettering on my golf balls (most of which I never see again once driven from the tee!) and, like a lot of grumpy folk, the reasons for the grumpiness are often so painfully obvious as to hurt. Left my house in Beach Town for a walk into Littlehampton – from here on in referred to as “LA” – and along the way found plenty of reasons for a severe bout of grumpability.

Dog poop right outside my front door, a horrendously noisy motorised bike roaring by, several empty beer bottles and cans standing on a wall, the bottles just begging to be broken. More dog poop, someone picking the budding daffodils in Lob’s Wood, British Gas roadworks in Beach Road... again? It seems like only yesterday the last time they had that road up! Savage, muddy scars on the grass verges caused by corner-cutting lorries or lazy parking, three-inch deep potholes, two free-running and very angry-looking dogs – I guess they can’t help their looks – with the owners too far back to act should they need to exert any form of control and, finally, more dog poop!

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Made a mental note to call in and ask the council environmental officer how many wardens are there out there, how many fines have been levied on owners of dogs fouling the pavement and does anyone in either Arun Civic Centre or the town council really care? I think I know the answer to all three questions – but I will ask them, anyway!

More on that another time – it’s a dirty subject, but someone has to write about it. . .

BUT it is not all doom and gloom in LA: It was good to see Malcolm Belchamber back in the refurbished and reopened Arcade office of an estate agency.

Malcolm is a truly independent town council member who seems to march to his own drummer who, incidentally keeps to a beat I can sometimes follow.

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The charity capstan has been repaired and reinstalled in the town centre after some mindless twit had wrecked and robbed it for a couple of quid to buy booze which, I suspect, he/she had probably consumed and then left the empty containers on a wall just to pee me off! Had a nice coffee and cream and a charming smile from the ladies in the Waitrose café and wandered out to the High Street. The Friday market was busy and I found a Bob Dylan DVD I have been searching for, so that was a big plus. The Cats Protection folk were on hand and were delighted to hear the story of the charming moggy I had gotten from them. And while on the subject of cats. . .

LATER, I popped into the Harbour Lights, usually referred to as Look & Sea – I never have liked that pun (more grumpiness), and read the notice on the door warning customers of an over-friendly black and white feline who was forever seeking legitimacy and entry and, although much loved by the staff and customers alike, was not too welcome in the restaurant – no doubt an environmental health issue.

No worries about tracking the dog poop all around town, but do concern yourself about a cat rubbing against your leg! She was past me and inside before I could grab her and Della, a member of the staff, quickly rounded her up put her back outside. Seems her name is Molly and she has kind of adopted the place...