Gallivanting at midnight Dropping to sleep last night, when two students - clearly on something - took to kicking a recycling box along the Twitten (it boomed like a drum) and shouting incredibly loudly and laughing hysterically. After running up and down half a dozen times, and pushing each other into my tiny front garden, into my rosebush, I'd had enough and stalked out hastily dressed in socks and jeans and teeshirt - at which point there was some legging it. My new next door neighbour was out too, bless her. She and her husband haven't moved in properly yet, but asked me rather despairingly if it was always like this. I assured her that it wasn't always like this. The gallivanters had broken out of a party, and she talked to them excellently, and I handed the box back to the host, and explained that I wasn't best pleased either, and the Twitten settled back tutting into its beds. Off this morning to the smoke, and my old agency again. Nothing much happened, and w...
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