Posting is going to be late today. I was all set to start just now when a car hurtled into our front wall, demolishing most of it. If anyone had been standing there, they'd probably have been killed. The driver was in a rage about a woman who lives on our street. A strong smell of drink on his breath. He calmed down after I spoke to him, gave me his name and address, then shot off again. I'm waiting for the police to arrive now.
Another quiet day...
UPDATE: Two hours later, and still no sign of the police.
UPDATE 2: Four hours and counting....When I rang Thames Valley Police, they told me it had been a busy day. So that's all right, then. I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but my car was stolen by ram-raiders a few years ago, and when I found it some days later, I discovered a sledgehammer in the boot. An hour later, still waiting for the cops to arrive, I rang the station again, and the man at the other end asked if I could bring the sledgehammer in later that week.
UPDATE 3: It took just over four and a half hours in the end. (The station itself is about five minutes' drive away.) Then we went through the ritual of filling in a statement, and I was told they'd "talk" to the man. Not much sense of urgency. Later, I heard they finally tracked him down, only he was too drunk to give a coherent account. Not for the first time, I feel I've just taken part in a well-meaning charade. One more for the waste-paper basket...
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