Awake in Suburbia Somnolenta

Sunday 9 September 2012

Just before 00:50 I am woken by voices from the back garden of a house which is not far away but is in a different street. (I have been dreaming of extreme weather, including some powdery snow, in the West Country — no doubt the setting of my dream owes something to the West Country accents of the people making all the racket.)
“What are they b****y…”
“Oh my g*w*…”
“…the Italian…”
(The same female voice utters all of the above, and is doing most of the talking.)
“I’ll come and sit next to you, shall I…”
“…take yourself out of the ground…” [?]
I know” — in a knowing [!] tone of voice.
Then in adjacent sentences there are two more “b****y”s.

I try to get back to sleep. The racket recurs sporadically.
It is approaching 03:00 when the party comes to an end.

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