SIR – I love Sunday mornings – a cup of coffee and the papers, can’t beat it. I come downstairs and open the curtains and it’s a lovely bright and sunny day.

I look out over my front garden and my mood sinks!

All of Saturday evening/night’s detritus is sat on the grass as usual.

For some reason passers-by seem to mistake my garden for the local skip – that’s being generous – they would still chuck it on the floor anyway.

So I get a bin bag and set about picking up the beer cans, bottles, chip papers, sandwich wrappers, cigarette packets and butts that liberally sprinkle the garden.

I’m impressed they can manage to eat all their chips by the time they reach my house. When I ask these Neanderthals not to use my garden I am subjected to verbal abuse, usually consisting of the two words they know!

Mind you, I will have to do it all again in the morning after the little darlings have been dropped at school.

This time it’s sweet wrappers, drinks cartons and yet more fag butts to pick up, not sure who they belong to.

Then even though I’m stood there, a woman with a Yorkshire terrier allows her dog to defecate on the grass and then goes to walk off.

I call her back and give her a poop bag. The look she gave me actually made me laugh out loud – she stared at me for a minute then picked it up.

When did respect for other people and their property become extinct?

Oh, and by the way yorkie lady, next time I see your dog on my garden I will follow you and drop it back on your garden, I’ll play nicely though I will put it in poop bags first.

Yvonne Carter

Worcester