Murder on the Rocks (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery #13)

I woke on Sunday to the sound of gulls. Devonshire herring gulls are the size of small sheep and spend most of their waking hours shouting at each other at the top of their great sea-air-filled lungs.

They are no respecters of human traditions like the Sunday Morning Lie-In and will make any amount of noise they like outside your window while you’re trying to sleep.

They’re a menace once you’re awake, too, and many a trip to the seaside has been spoiled by aggressive gulls pinching holidaymakers’ chips while they’re strolling along the prom.

I would never wish a fellow creature dead, but I did wish they’d bugger off and give me a few more minutes’ peace before the day began.