Rowdy neighbourhood

That’s the trouble with moving from the countryside to the town.
I didn’t sleep too well last night, for obvious reasons, but finally managed to fall into a deep sleep in the early hours, only to be wakened by the Smudgelet, who had in turn been woken by the sounds of someone in distress in the street outside his bedroom window.

A woman screaming for help.

I don’t know what help I thought I could be, as I strode out into the street, blurry eyed, without even stopping to put on my slippers and dressing gown (good job I sleep in pyjamas usually). Not sure of the hour, I guessed it was some altercation spilling over from the nearby pub.

I ended up breaking up a fight.

A fight between two foxes.

I think I’ll go back to bed, now the Smudgelet has gone to school, and actually get some sleep before my morning of phone calls (unlike my friend who may also be experiencing an unwelcome wakening in the early hours – I accidentally left my handbag at her house with my mobile phone in the pocket…. with the alarm set for 6 a.m. !!)

5 thoughts on “Rowdy neighbourhood

  1. In the depths of SE London where I used to live there were two foxes which would sit outside my window and regularly create a right row at 2 a.m. Perhaps the road had been Foxes Lovers’ Lane 120 years previously but I used to wish they’d move on to the park to conduct their rituals (whatever they were…)

    Hope you get some decent sleep now. (Couldn’t help giggling at your friend’s early morning plight…)

  2. brush tailed possums in trees outside windows at 3am … either screeching, fighting, or heavy breathing – seriously, sounds like you’ve got an axe murderer on the other side of the wall (take note, if you’re ever visiting the Aussie bush!) … think I’d take all of that over raucous drunks and loud 4WD’s!

  3. I blame all those BBC wildlife programmes… foxes used to live in the depths of the country, but nowadays they’re always auditioning for Autumnwatch/Springwatch… you did rush back inside for your camera, natch?

  4. There is a kind of deer here that communicate with a very human sounding bark, described by wildlife experts as “yow”. The first time I heard it (at night, of course, alone in the house, of course) it scared the life out of me. Just now, I heard rustling outside, and turned on the lights to the sound of hooves galloping down the driveway. I imagine if a burglar ever did come, he might be surprised by my clapping my hands in his general direction and scolding him for eating my flowers.

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