Have you ever come across those little stalls that people put outside their houses? Usually after having a clear-out – they might be selling books or DVDs for a knock-down price, or there might even be a sign saying “FREE STUFF” - one person’s trash is another’s treasure.

Daughter used to be a big fan of these. When she started secondary school, I never knew what she was going to come home with – her room is still furnished by bean bags and wheely chairs left outside a house en route. I only hope that was the previous owner’s intention, and that they weren’t simply making space to mop the floor, only to return and find their stuff gone, dragged to a new home by a 21st-century would-be Womble.

My own favourite acquisition was a smart notebook with the beginnings of someone’s diary on the first three pages. The author had a keen wit, describing a child’s birthday party involving a bird of prey specialist: “The owl crapped more or less continuously”; and the cleaning of said child’s bedroom: “Finally found verruca cream!”

Of course, it’s decent enough to take one or two things from these pop-up shops, but it’s taking the mickey to swipe the whole lot.

The owner of a rock-painting stall in Bissoe recently reported how a fresh batch of 75 colourful stones had been removed en masse, depriving children of the opportunity to take just one and hide it, find it or keep it. Talk about heart of stone.

It’s just one example of some truly sad stories I’ve seen on my social media feeds of late. You might have read in last week’s Truro Voice how The Cake House in Pydar Mews had its door kicked in by a sweet-toothed vandal with a hankering for a piece of chocolate cake.

I was appalled to read a couple of weeks ago how an avenue of cherry blossom trees, planted in memory of a teenager wo died in tragic circumstances in 2021, had their branches brutally hacked just before flowering. Who would do such a thing? And why is anybody’s guess – for commercial benefit, maybe, but would you buy flowers like this for a wedding or photoshoot without knowing their true provenance?

Closer to home, in the leafy lanes around Truro’s Coosebean woodlands, the fairy doors created by local man John Rowe have been a popular fixture ever since Covid times, bringing smiles to small faces who often make special trips to walk the Enchanted Fairy Trail. They are beautiful, and John also sells them to raise funds for charities.

It would be nice to think this voluntary addition would inspire others to take care of a natural resource on their doorstep. Unfortunately, they have become a magnet for vandals, to the point that John recently considered throwing in the towel. Thankfully, he had a change of heart, but is calling for CCTV cameras to be installed.

There's a danger that hearing of such selfish behaviour, for financial benefit or simply for kicks, is enough to make you close the curtains and never step outside again. Why do people do such dreadful things? Has it always been this way?

Maybe – but only a small minority, whose actions are amplified by the fact we give them the oxygen of publicity.

“Bad news sells” has long been a journalist’s mantra, and you only have to see the outpouring of vitriol online to see that's truer now than ever before. I can always tell which stories will top the BBC News app’s list of “most read”, usually because they were the first ones I opened myself.

However, there are glimmers of light at the end of this very dark tunnel, and those aer the tales of human kindness that are borne out of misfortune.

The Cake House was inundated with offers from good-hearted folk willing to help with repair work or contribute financially towards it (a £20 note was posted through the letterbox).

And volunteers are hopeful of carrying out maintenance work in Coosebean Woods to make the walk ready for Easter, using materials donated by the trade.

It’s a reassuring reminder that most of us are jolly good eggs, ready to pull together to make live that little bit easier and more pleasant.

And here’s a tip for you. Just lately, whenever I want to cheer myself up, I turn to the sheer silliness of comedy like Britain’s Got Talent clown Viggo Venn, or German “magicians” Siegfried and Joy, whose intentionally terrible disappearing act has to be seen to be believed (the hilarity never fades).

And there's always cake. After covering the break-in story, I returned to The Cake House with Daughter for a chunk of the Black Forest gateau layer cake. It was truly epic – but for the love of God, go in opening hours and pay for your goods.