Millionairess, moi?

It’s been chaos in my street recently. Everyone seems to have gone mad.

Last night I experienced a new neighbourhood nuisance; a family of Eastern Europeans (couldn’t quite make out the accent) who thoughtfully chose to hold an hour long conflab with their friend, a middle-aged, beer-gutted tattooed skinhead in their front garden at 2.30 am.

After busily busy-bodying around in the dark to gauge the situation I decided not to venture out in my dressing gown. It’s all well and good asking the household two houses to the right to stop their all-night fireworks at 4am, but skinheads with tattooed arms and beer guts?

Instead, I put the light on and pulled my curtain back. The woman of the house clocked me.

“Good,” I thought. “Just a matter of seconds now.”

Instead she took a long drag on her fag and carried on yacking. I threw the curtains back in disgust, put earplugs in and tried VERY HARD not to be angry. I then re-read the same sentence in my book for half an hour while trying to ignore the noise.

I got a bit cross with the world and crap people like that. Yob like elements who Daily Mail hacks write about to pay their mortgages. Then guilt pangs kicked in and I figured maybe they'd had terrible lives... then fury again as I realised I’m probably paying for them to live there.

Just as I'd fallen back to sleep again, a car came screeching to a halt outside our house. The Prince slept on. It was now 4am. I thought I was about to witness a shooting. Two men were having an argument on the pavement. One had left his car parked in the middle of the road and turned the lights off. That got me worrying another car might come round the bend and smash into it. The argument lasted about 20 minutes during which no gunshot sounded. Urban living pitfalls. At least there are no cars on fire like around the corner.

How I yearn for the Surrey heartlands with lush greenery and birdsong. Oh to be disturbed by little furrowing foxes or squirrels foraging for nuts.

Tomorrow I lose internet access for a whole week while I switch provider. Not sure how I'll cope without my secret e-friend to write to.

The worst bit is I could be rich! I received an email from Camelot saying "we have good news about your lottery ticket" (I do the weekly draw via direct debit). I logged on but couldn't remember my username and password. I had to fill in a form on their website and am now waiting for my new temporary sign in details to be emailed. It's been two hours now and still nothing and tomorrow I go offline. The Prince has gone a bit nuts - he's cash obsessed.

I might actually be a millionairess right now but not know it. If I am I'll still write this blog. Millionairesses have biological clocks too.