Lovely. Can't stand people yodelling at midnight...

There's a car park where the youth of the parish assemble. By day they play football, by night they yell.

We're on a ned (think chav, only less well heeled...) conduit. They don't hang around, they just pass by. But they yodel as they saunter past. Sometimes it's football chants. Sometimes they're sectarian. Sometimes it's chart hits.

The best one was some kid yowling the Beck line: 'I'm a loser,baby, so why don't you kill me?' at 3am.

I longed to lean out the window and reply, "Keep going on like that, mate, and I'll gladly oblige!'

We get a bit of passing traffic at the front, but there's no pattern to it. A month or two back we were getting drama- loud voices, the occasional fight- every friday night, but that seems to have stopped.

We have a long-term pattern. Someone, somewhere, gets to that age where they go out and get drunk and roll home every Friday/Saturday night. This goes on for a few weeks or months, then they move on, get a house of their own, go to uni, or whatever, and we have peace. Until the next one comes of age. What goes around, comes around.

And I suppose I had a few similar episodes in the West End of Glasgow when I was a young bampot postgraduate... Soon grew out of it, mind!

I remember how when I was seventeen it was just about the coolest thing imaginable to roll through the midnight streets shouting "fuck".

I never quite stooped to that. I just hallucinated Bronze Age warriors and kept announcing that they were coming to get me. I'd seen Dances With Wolves in the cinema and things got a bit muddled in my subconsious, after I drank some 98% proof Icelandic Black Death Schnapps, I think...

One occasion like that was enough...

I did most of my revelling in Switzerland. They sell you beer in huge mugs that hold several pints and everyone drinks from them communally and it becomes impossible to keep track of how much you've had.