Last night I got in rather late from London Aunt's. We were having a great old catch up that didn't end until the early hours of this morning. So when I arrived back at my flat, I tiptoed in so as not to disturb my neighbour.
But what a wasted effort that was because at 4am this morning, I was awoken by what I can only describe as a terrible din. It was the sound of someone trying to play the steel drums on the big metal industrial waste bins that belong to the pub on my road.
These giant tin cans on wheels normally only make a noise on bin days at 6am when wheeled and hurled into the waiting lorry, but last night they really let rip.
Astonished by the sheer volume of noise coming from outside, I got out of bed and peeked through the blinds and sure enough, there was a swaying, rucksack-adorned man wielding what looked like a Sigg Bottle and smacking the hell out of the bins.
It was quite a sight.
Eventually however, he seemed to give up and stumbled on his way down my road.
And did this make me mad? Did this make me shake my fist at him and grumble about my already short sleep becoming shorter?
Well no not really. You see there are two silver linings to this event. The first is that I will never tire of being awoken by sound because it is one of my greatest fears not to be woken by sound. Being woken by sound is confirmation that my ears do still work even if it's only a little bit.
And the second silver lining? Well rather meanly I could pretty much guarantee that downstairs my neighbour would be doing her nut. She would be doing her nut at being woken up, doing her nut at the noise, doing her nut in panic that there was possibly a drunken psycho outside and I had a left the gate – which is held on my a dangling screw – open, and perhaps the best one of all, doing her nut that she couldn't blame it on me.
It wasn't me.
Although, it did look kind of fun.
I may just invest in a Sigg Bottle at lunchtime.