One of the joys of having a property in a busy street is discovering the presents that have been left on your doorstep overnight. Usually they are quite mundane – a pizza box or wine bottle.
The other Sunday I was greeted by used toilet paper that was also sodden with blood, to the extent that it had soaked into the stone.
My dismay at what may be a comment on my cakes was equalled by being somewhat perplexed that your average Breton carries shitty toilet paper about their person. No doubt such activity attracts a generous handout from the State.
Today’s unusual present is a bath mat that has been draped over my back gate.