The Sound of Silence

It's normally very quiet in Walton Court. That's one of the reasons I moved here.

But the last couple of nights, for some reason, the noise level is up. I don't mean the collared doves, the foxes, and later at dawn the magpies and gulls fighting it out. And I don't mean the fire alarms, which are likely to go off at any time in a complex where some of the residents manage to burn their toast every frickin time they turn on the toaster. I can hear doors slamming, cars arriving and leaving in the middle of the night. Today at midday we even had football chants from a crowd passing on the main road.

What I mean is it's summer. Days last 18 hours here in June and July. The local wildlife are driven demented. The weans wake too early. Gardeners are out and about before a reasonable hour.

I'm told this is the police force's least favourite time. Too much daylight brings the hordes out on the streets, with nothing else to do except cause trouble.

By the end of July, sad gits like me will be looking forward to autumn, just so the noise dies down.

Meanwhile, I will pull the duvet over my head and wait for the paper to be delivered.