Well, there's been excitement in the road.
We've had police, fire brigade, etc in abundance over the past few days.
The upshot is that next door neighbour, Bev, has left the area.
What's really sad to report is that not a soul is sad to see her go. She's been the most obnoxious person to have as a neighbour that I have yet to encounter in my life. How those around her cope with the appalling behaviour I do not know. Certainly, Ross and I have both had direct experience of the wrong side of her world.
So, what happened?
Well, the story goes back a long way. You'll remember that, in the summer of 2006, Ross and I went on a cruise round the Baltic. About that time, next door neighbour Bev met and shacked up with an hombre whose name we never knew. They seemed to get on very well. He spent a lot of time there. Ross's brother, Sam, house sat for us whilst we were on holiday. He reported hearing shrieks of delight from Bev during wild and unbridled sexual intercourse conducted with the bay window doors wide open so the houses around could appreciate the full extent of her rapture. Consequently, hombre became known as Donkey Dick.
Donkey Dick drove a clapped out estate wagon. He never seemed to be able to grasp the concept of parallel parking. Mostly the vehicle was abandoned at least a foot from the kerb and often more.
Suddenly, this last summer, the estate wagon disappeared and was replaced by a bright new Mercedes coloured electric blue. Donkey Dick has no discernible means of income. The efforts at parking did not improve.
There was a period of a few weeks when the driver's window of the Mercedes was ostentatiously left wide open. Presumably, this was meant to tell us that he was so hard that no-one would dream of tampering with his car even if the window was open. We all thought that the upholstery was bound to get wet if it rained.
Then, in the early autumn, it became increasingly obvious that Bev was pregnant. She already has a son, Luca, who is now approaching his early teens. She has not been a good mother for him. God only knows why she's going down that route for a second time. The most charitable interpretation was that she was hoping that Social Services would re-house her.
Then, the dog appeared. A lovely dog. A Staffordshire/Lab cross. It was named Branson. Luca loved the dog and took him for walks and really enjoyed the unconditional love it radiated towards him. But he wasn't around all the time. We suspect that he spent a lot of time at his aunt's so that he was more likely to go to school and so that Bev got her free time.
When Luca wasn't there, the dog would be thrown out the front door as soon as it got restless. No food. It promptly tore all of the rubbish bags apart so that Bev's detritus was scattered all round the street. It soon got big enough to get over the garden wall and was nearly knocked down by passing cars on several occasions. It also shat everywhere. Of course, it would. Bev never thought to clear its mess up.
Meanwhile the back yard had turned into Steptoe's junk yard. Every time that Donkey Dick forked out for something luxurious for Bev, the original got tossed out in the back yard. Settees, chairs, mattresses and bags and bags of rubbish. Our cats loved it and added to the mayhem by ripping and scratching to their heart's content along with every other cat in the district.
Bev's never been particularly stable. There's always been occasional shouting; there's always been rows. As the autumn wore on, the atmosphere changed. Health visitors turned up and presumably weren't impressed by the mess. The police called and there was a public row (windows wide open) which involved Donkey Dick shouting the word "Grass" over and over again at the top of his voice. Presumably, he thought that some-one had told tales on him. Frankly, it could have been anyone in a wide radius. Truant officers came to check on Luca's presence.
There was bizarre parading. Donkey Dick and Madam (her wearing an outfit that showed her bare and swelling midriff) and dog Branson trooping out of the park together like a royal parade, her wielding a parasol for added effect. Little excursions to the car (her wearing increasingly girly outfits) with lots of noise so that they would be noticed - the car razzing off - and then, within a two minute period, an equally noisy return. They couldn't even have had time to buy a pint of milk from the local shops. It was both astonishing and attention seeking of the most infantile kind.
But nothing was right.
I kept hoping that the re-housing ploy would work.
But nothing was right.
And, then, at the beginning of December, the electric blue Mercedes disappeared.
And then Donkey Dick was less to be seen and then not at all - and the word on the street is that he has gone down for drugs dealing which would account for the blue Mercedes.
And then quiet and I didn't really think much about it until last Thursday when some kids set fire to some rubbish in the back yard. We called the fire brigade. They put it out.
The kids set fire to the rubbish again on Friday morning and someone else called the Fire Brigade about that.
Friday afternoon they got into the flat and set fire to something inside. Well, that piece of folly caught the attention of both the Fire Brigade and the Police and, consequently, the landlord as well.
Who knows how the kids knew where to congregate? I could be uncharitable and think mean thoughts.
But, though they didn't know it, they did us a favour. Yesterday some workmen were in. All of Bev's remaining possessions were piled into a van and carted away. Apparently Donkey Dick has gone down for drug dealing. We're told that Bev has been evicted. Goodness only knows what has happened to son Luca and dog Branson.
And, as I said at the start, there is not a soul locally who is sad to see Bev go.
I can feel a whole layer of tension that has dropped away from me. I'm not expecting to hear shouting and swearing and ugliness intrude upon my day. I don't have to look out of the back bedroom window on squalor. I don't have to deal with dog shit on the side path. I don't have to trail through rubbish on the pavement. I won't be woken in the night.
And I can go out into the back garden again. I'd realised that I'd not done as much outside for the past two years. I put the first year down to the cruise and last year down to the wet summer. Actually, I was avoiding Bev. And I don't have to avoid any more.