Peter Rhodes: A big debate on seagulls, but no debate on bombing Syria

I referred recently to the god of thunder, Thor. It reminded a reader of this old chestnut: "The thunder God went for a ride, upon his favourite filly. / I'm Thor!" he cried. The horse replied: "You forgot your thaddle, thilly".

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I am not sure about the provenance of this one, either, but a reader swears he saw this widow's poignant farewell carved on her husband's gravestone in a remote Scottish island churchyard: "Rest in peace until we meet again."

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By chance, the day after our hotel in Jersey issued guests with water pistols to fend off seagulls, David Cameron called for a national debate on the issue. Frankly, I'm not sure water pistols are the answer. The pistols are very small and the herring gulls are very big. You might end up simply annoying them. On the other hand, a sensible weapon, such as a squash racket, would leave guts and feathers everywhere and hardly endear you to other holidaymakers. Anyway, the PM has spoken. As he put it: "This is a very difficult subject. A big conversation needs to happen. We do have a problem."

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Curious, isn't it, that pesky seagulls are worthy of "a big conversation" but RAF pilots are flying bombing missions into Syria, against the wishes of Parliament, and without even the tiniest conversation. But it's all okay, according to Whitehall, because the aircrews are "embedded" with the US Air Force. This sounds suspiciously like the Kremlin announcing that some of its soldiers are fighting in Ukraine as "volunteers." You can't hold the moral high ground if you're wading through a swamp of double-speak.

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Holiday grumbles. A reader asks: "I'm in East Devon. Why do these cottage owners furnish them with junk store antiques?" Probably because the alternative, modern flat-pack furniture, can be dismantled and fitted in the guest's car.

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First, she suggested Labour would not oppose the Tory Government's welfare cuts, and was duly slapped down by her comrades. Then she condemned Labour's new intake of MPs for sitting contentedly on big-majority seats and not coming up with ideas to drive the party forward. Harriet Harman, Labour's interim party leader, is clearly not a happy bunny. I wonder if it ever occurs to her that she might have been happier with the Tories. She certainly looks the part.

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My recent items on predictions of a mini ice age, due to start about 15 years from now, reminds a reader of the long, hot, and bone-dry summer of 1976. He recalls much guffawing in his local pub back then at a TV documentary warning of global cooling and long, bleak winters. Maybe history is repeating itself. Let us hope there is no repeat of the '76 drought, an event scorched in the memory of all those of us who lived through it.

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Good old Brum. Our plane landed at Birmingham Airport 20 minutes ahead of schedule. Airport staff spent the next 15 minutes wheeling a set of steps to the plane, finding a bus and shepherding us passengers up a rusted stairway to baggage reclaim where the loos were out of order. You may think it looks bad but maybe Birmingham Airport is aware how many of its passengers have arrived from festering, clapped-out banana republics in the Third World, and simply wants to make them feel at home. One at a time in the urinals, thanks.