PHILIP was complaining about the number of unsolicited phone calls he was getting. Usually calm and courteous, this recently retired postman confessed to moments of anger.

We were in my favourite Covered Market café taking a break from Monday’s scorching heat. We were joined by former schoolmaster Ken and mid-40s salesman Austin. Determined to avoid another conversation on the hot weather, I took up Philip’s theme and asked the newcomers what had recently caused hackles to rise.

Ken was quick off the mark. Mothers with wide pushchairs blocking seating space in cafés of city centre stores; he had taken two young mums to task only last Friday.

After all, the shops provided toddler seats. Why couldn’t they leave the prams in a designated area?

Austin was next. Late Sunday afternoon found him in his greenhouse, banished thither by a non-sporting spouse, radio on low, listening to the final stages of the Golf Open. Suddenly a neighbour started up his loud motor mower causing Austin to miss commentary on the final stages.

We fell silent for a few seconds, followed by an uneasy shuffle. Ken was first to speak.

“Didn‘t murder cross your mind?” asked this low handicap golfer. I HAD a glass of wine in my hand when I heard the news: Kate and William were now mum and dad.

“Great stuff,” I thought, for once unable to think of a more appropriate toast. It was the interval at the New Theatre and a packed house – many of us of grandparent vintage – were enjoying Save the Last Dance for Me.

The news added to the joy of the evening, which was still glowing on Tuesday morning: that was until… Critics, republicans and all-round spoilsports were polluting the airwaves with their negative and envious comments, complaining that the press, TV and radio were guilty of outrageous hype. What about world poverty? What about racial and sectarian tension? The only people who wanted to know that another burden on the nation’s taxes had arrived were those with shallow and sad lives. What was another child in an already over-populated world?

If this is true, if sharing the joy of a young couple on the birth of a child is shallow and sad then I’m guilty as charged.

FINAL thought – and this comes from my seven-year-old grandson George: “Will Grandad Charles babysit if William and Kate want to go to the cinema?”

Ever practical, that’s George.