The doorbell rang at around 11.00 last night- not a regular occurence. It was the police, investigating the incident on Friday night when a number of back gates were kicked. I hadn't reported it, but someone else had. The police seem to think there's a link with a spate of low-level burglaries that have been committed in the area. Really? Were the characters I glimpsed in the darkness of the back alley carrying a sheet of lead? I don't think so. And if they had been, would they have advertised it by making such a hell of a noise? Anyway I co-operated fully. I even took the very pleasant young man out into the alley, bare-legged in my dressing gown, to show him the scene of the crime. But here's the oddest thing: I wasn't frightened, but all the time he was here I was shaking uncontrollably. It got worse and worse- and then as soon as he left it stopped. I've never had any bad experiences with the police- except once in Switzerland which hardly counts- but I seem to be allergic to a blue uniform. I wonder why?
Helping The Police With Their Enquiries
Showing the Coastguard cottages at Cuckmere Haven from the other side- and how close they now are to a cliff edge that is steadily eroding.
I'm back to wanting a bit of Dickens in my life- so I've taken up with Martin Chuzzlewit again- and it begins to bite. Martin himself,…
We'd planned to go to Brighton, but when it came to it we couldn't think of anything we actually wanted to do when we got there, so we went…