This morning, this SUNDAY morning, I was woken by the neighbour across the road using the saw bench he keeps in his garage.
Ask me what time I was woken by this saw bench screeching? Go on...ask me...
...6.40...a.m...on a Sunday morning...6 flipping 40! What does one need a saw bench for at 6.40 on a Sunday morning that couldn't wait an hour or so, for heaven's sake?
Oh, I know. Sundays ain't what they used to be. When I was a lass, Sundays were fry ups for breakfast followed by Sunday School at the local village hall, followed by church because my best friend at the time was going out with the vicar's son, followed by home for a Sunday lunch whilst listening to Family Favourites on the radio, followed by a long afternoon of nothing much unless Dad decided we were 'going for a drive' which meant piling into the car and feeling nauseous for a couple of hours because a) the car had slippery leather seats and b) my Dad was an Old Spice and Brylcreem Dad, all of which combined into a heady ikky slidey mix that did my disposition towards travel sickness no favours whatsoever.
Nowadays, of course, Sundays are all about getting out and about and visiting attractions, or going shopping and all the other some such nonsenses that make Sundays no different, really, to other days of the week. But still, I do not appreciate being woken at 6.40 by the whining of a saw bench.
There has been a lot of nocturnal wake up disturbances in the last ten days or so. In the wee small hours of Saturday morning I was woken by a fire engine parking on the junction of our road with the main road and sitting there with its blue lights a-flashing away in a manner likely to induce an epileptic fit. There was a bit of walking about by the firemen chappies, but I think it was a false alarm or a hoax call because no hoses or choppers were forthcoming (disappointing) and off went the engine.
Ironically, two nights previously, I woke to the smell of smoke. My immediate thought was, 'There's a fire!' and then, 'Why hasn't the smoke alarm gone off, because it did when Heather was cooking bacon so I know jolly well it is working properly.' So I went onto the landing and it soon transpired the reason the smoke alarm hadn't gone off was because the stench of smoke was confined to our bedroom because the windows were open, it being a very hot and humid night, and the neighbours were standing outside their front door chain smoking. It was 1.30 a.m.
And those same neighbours woke me at 3.30 a.m last week (I think it was Wednesday) by returning to their house, presumably after a night out, giggling like drunken loons and slamming their car doors many, many times.
Also from these neighbours, the day time visitations over the fence of a badminton racquet, a small football emblazoned with the image of Minnie Mouse, a frisbee clunking on the roof of the conservatory, and some sheets of crumpled up A4 paper pushed through the fence which looked like they had been pecked at by the hens, probably wondering what this stuff coming through the fence was and then losing interest when they discovered, after a few pecks, that is wasn't worms, sunflower seeds, grapes, or their latest favourite food - watermelon.
Do you know what I am thinking? I am beginning to think that all this noise and disturbance is the Universe telling me it is time to go and live in the middle of a field.