God love a duck is what my Grandad says when he is expressing alarm or exasperation.
We had some ducks in our garden on Sunday morning. There were two boy ducks and a girl duck. We felt honored and deeply humbled that they had chosen our garden as their duck dock, so we gave them two crumbled up Cream Crackers. It was truly a bank holiday weekend miracle. We have a bathtub in the back garden so, thinking how marvelous it would be if the ducks lived with us forever, we began to gently coerce them up the front steps and through the house to their new home. We could dress them in tiny clothes and feed them the old vegetables that we don't get around to using and use them as an audience for when we do our plays and bring them to parties as our 'plus one'. It would be perfect.
Possibly sensing our plans, the ducks faltered in the act of hopping up the steps. Unwilling to sacrifice their unbridled freedom for the sake of a rusty bath and a few great parties, they turned around and flew away. We cried for a while and then went upstairs and had some eggs and lemonade.