My grandfather is used to have a beautiful gold watch.

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When I was small, he promised to lend it to me in his will.

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“When I was gone,” he said, “this is going to be yours.”

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Unluckily that will never happen. About three months before,

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my grandfather came up to London visit us. The first

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Sunday morning after he arrived, my youngest son said he

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wanted to go to the park.

“We’ll do better than that,” said to my grandfather.

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“We’ll go and feed the pigeon in Trafalgar Square.”

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But off they went. When they came back, my

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grandfather looked very anxiously. ”My watch,” he

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said, “it’s gone. Someone must have stolen it while we were

feeding pigeons.”