Terry Prone: There are knickers at the bottom of my garden that boomerang back

Somewhere, there’s a holidaymaker mystified by the disappearance of their sexy underwear

Terry Prone’s garden: Any day I walk the grass, I encounter tennis balls and swim rings. They fill me with sadness because the children who own them have long gone home.

You know you’re in trouble when you find yourself muttering aloud to nobody in particular that crabs can’t fly. It’s factually defensible. While some fish can give the impression of flying, crabs? Never.

Yet a sizeable crab was waddling across the grass outside my home. Now, I live about six metres above sea level, which is useful, because I’ll be good and dead before rising sea levels due to climate chaos threaten me in a personal way. It’s also helpful, in that crabs on the lawn are few and far between. Snails are bad enough.