I took 3 random words and made a short short story from them to flex my writing muscles. Turned out quite nice, but I wouldn't mind some critique on it.
In days gone it would have been an idyllic scene, Harold thought. The sun would have been shining down on a couple of children playing on the banks, or maybe a father and a son fishing together. Now, as he stood on the bridge leaning on his stick, Harold couldn't help but wish for those days again. The canal, once a gently flowing stream, was now choked with weeds and rubbish. On the tow-path a group of youths, their hoods up and their trousers down, stood smoking and passing around a can of Value beer. As he watched, one of them slung an empty into the water. Harold hurmphed and stamped his stick. One of the youths noticed him and flipped a crude hand gesture, yelling, “Fuck off, y'old cunt!” Harold glared. He'd killed Germans with more honour than that thug. If he had half his strength again, he'd go down there, teach them some manners and respect. But he couldn't. Harold let his shoulders slump.
They were still jeering at him as he made his slow way over the bridge and towards home. Someone ought to do something, Harold thought. But no one would, so why not him? When he reached home, he resolved, he would make some calls, maybe write some letters. After all Alfie's lass worked at the council, and Dot's youngest had that construction firm. No one else would do anything so it was up to him. He nodded to himself with satisfaction.