Feeding the birds? It's criminal. Stick to banking

Do you remember that haunting song in the Mary Poppins film, the one with the old lady sitting on the steps of St Paul's Cathedral? How did the lyrics go? Yes, I remember: "Feed the birds, twopence a bag."

There she sat, birds fluttering around her head with the "saints and apostles" smiling down on her. But not in Heckmondwike, West Yorkshire.

Heckmondwike has its own elderly bird-feeding lady, 70-year-old retired mill-worker, Michelina Roy. But her bird feeding costs slightly more than twopence a bag - a £75 fine in fact.

Two council wardens (why do these people always work in twos?) approached her as she tossed bread crumbs and bits of crumpet to the pigeons and handed her an on-the-spot penalty ticket for littering.

Poor Mrs Roy. She has missed her way in life. What she should have done is to have joined the Royal Bank of Scotland and worked her way up to the executive suite where she could have scattered billions of pounds to the birds, then retired on a £703,000 a year pension. But Sir Fred Goodwin, the former boss of RBS, makes sure he keeps his own encounters with birds strictly legal. He doesn't feed them, but shoots them instead. It means that his "bag" will cost slightly more than twopence, but he can afford it.

Perhaps the leaders of Kirklees Council, whose officers imposed the fine, would rather Mrs Roy invested the money she spends on bird food in RBS, or should we refer to it these days as the Dawes, Tomes, Mousely, Grubbs Fidelity Feduciary Bank.

Why should she do this? The song lyrics make it quite plain: "You'll achieve that sense of conquest as your affluence expands in the hands of the directors who invest as propriety demands."

Art, holly and heroism

A visit to Compton, the Watts Gallery and Chapel. Before its TV exposure on the BBC's Restoration series that features dilapidated buildings in need of repair, the Watts Gallery was one of the UK's best kept secrets.

I wanted to see it before work starts on its lottery-supported £10m refurbishment in the Spring of 2008. The tattiness of the place is part of its appeal although I agree that something has to be done about the decay. I hope that the restoration retains the gallery's charm and eccentricity. Some of the older chairs have sprigs of holly on the cushions designed to ward off anyone who might want to sit on them.

The green-painted walls are packed with the paintings of George Frederic Watts plus a few works by other Victorian painters gifted from other collections. It has been suggested that one reason that Watts is not better known today is that most of his works were kept together in his private collection.

In reality, however, he is not in the first rank of British artists, although his best sculpture such as his statue of Lord Alfred Tennyson stands comparison with Rodin and his exceptional portrait of the Anglo-Greek Ionides family has the lustre of an Ingres. His first Royal Academy picture, The Wounded Heron, exhibited in 1837, is also a very fine work.

Most of the collection, however, reflects the sentimentality of the Victorian era, coupled with a concern for those less fortunate than the wealthy patrons from whom he drew his support. Titles such as The Irish Famine and Found Drowned, set the tone for much of his work although there is the odd amusing work such as The First Oyster BC depicting a naked couple on the beach, the man about to taste an oyster. One contemporary critic suggested that BC stood for "before clothing". I think Watts had something else in mind.

Before going along to the collection I had not known the connection between Watts and the commemorative plaques in the City of London's Postman's Park, recording otherwise unsung acts of heroism.

Watts had written to The Times newspaper proposing a memorial recording stories of heroism in everyday life. The project, mooted to mark Queen Victoria's jubilee, was ignored by the organisers but Watts went ahead anyway, erecting a 50-feet-long open gallery in the small park created on the site of the former churchyard of St Botolph, Aldersgate.

There are dozens of tiny parks within London's "Square Mile", the original Roman City boundary that has become the capital's financial centre. Postman's Park is my favourite. The tiled plaques laid by Watts and his wife are poignant reminders of the small tragedies that befell people daily in the late 19th century.

Many, such as the scalding to death of Thomas Griffin a 21-year-old sugar refinery labourer, were caused by exploding boilers. Griffin died after rushing in to the steam in an attempt to save a workmate. One plaque commemorates the selflessness of Mary Rogers the stewardess of a sinking steamer called the "Stella". She went down with the ship after giving her lifebelt to one of the passengers.

If you are ever visiting London and have a little time to spare after seeing its better known attractions, the park is well worth a visit. It's about five minutes walk from St Paul's Cathedral.

One last thing about Watts: he and his wife, Mary Seton Watts, were strong supporters of the Arts and Crafts Movement in England. Mary Seton Watts established a pottery that provided work for Compton villagers. A short distance from the gallery is a very fine chapel that she designed, inspired by Art Nouveau, Celtic motifs and the knot designs found in the Book of Kells. It's an architectural gem.