WHISPERING SMITH: A veritable Aladdin’s cave

Still, that is water under the bridge and I accepted an invitation from a friend to visit the Bognor Museum.

I am delighted that I did. It’s a veritable Aladdin’s cave of stuff, not only about Bognor, but illustrating perfectly through well-lit showcases a period in the not-too-distant past that will be familiar to many, and informative to most.

Exhibits include Southdown bus memorabilia, cigarette packs – very nostalgic and prompting a distant yearning for a long ago, but never forgotten Woodbine – toys, pottery, prehistoric artefacts, photographs, local history, social history, the town’s theatrical history and so much more.

However, above all, the attraction is the folk who run the show. All are members of Bognor Regis Local History Society – they know what they are talking about and are cheerfully happy to share that knowledge with the 7,000-plus visitors they are expecting this year.

The place is alive, it bustles. The museum, in West Street, is in the former Berkeley public house, which retains the main bar as part of the display, and was given to the society by a benefactor. It has a small grant from the council, but otherwise is totally run, staffed, funded, designed and managed on a day-to-day basis by volunteers.

LA Museum, it has to be said, has some fine exhibits and super river and seascapes, but it somehow doesn’t match the vibrancy or personality of its Bognor counterpart – go visit, you won’t be disappointed.

GRASSED UP AND MOWN DOWN Having given up on West Sussex County Council ever cutting the grass verges, Many residents of the LA area have taken to doing the jobs themselves, mostly making a neat job of it, indeed, clearing the cuttings and leaving their particular verge in fine order.

Where the council has mown in selected areas, has it made as good a job of it as the residents? No! Residents have made a point of clearing the thick grass cuttings, but the council has left them to rot in great bundles along the highways and byways.

While driving through the Beaumont Estate, I noticed two men with a mower and a third, asleep, under a tree. Fair enough, it was lunchtime, but, bizarrely, the skeeping workman was still wearing his yellow safety suits, I guess, so that his mates would spot him in the tall grass and not mow him down!

CAT AND MOUSE Aside from scrap metal, my car has now taken to bringing home live field mice, and dumping them, unharmed, on the living room floor, then watching, disinterestedly, as they make for the nearest hiding place.

I thought the deal between cat and master was that I feed her and she keeps the house free of mice, not stock it with them.

Obviously she has not read the small print on our contract and, should such behaviour continue, as fond of her as I am, she is likely to be heading back to the cat protection people, forthwith.