Blissful slumber was rudely interrupted at 4.20am last night by the sound of smashing glass and laughter. Some bright spark had decided that it would be hilariously funny to smash my bedroom window, presumably with the aid of a beer bottle judging by the shape of the hole. If it hadn’t been for my secondary glazing, I would have been showered in tiny shards of glass as I lay in bed.
I usually sleep naked, so with only a sheet to cover myself, I decided that leaping out of bed and giving chase through the streets of Chichester was probably not wise. However, needless to say, I was seriously pissed off about the whole episode, particularly as I was in the middle of a rather pleasant dream (the details of which I will not go into here). I got up and checked that none of the other windows had been damaged (they hadn’t), put on some clothes and had a quick look around outside (it being quite light by this time) – no sign of anyone, or anything that could be used to break a window.
So I went back to bed, feeling incredibly tired. It probably will not surprise you to learn that I didn’t sleep much after that.
When the time came to get up, I swept and hoovered up all the glass shards (it was like dust – the pane had completely disintegrated), had breakfast, and left for work (my windows are due for replacement, and can’t actually be opened, so I wasn’t too worried about security). When I got to work (a show at Stansted House), I put a call in to Mum and Dad to tell them what had happened, and Dad went over and fixed the window – fantastic! So I picked up a bottle of white Rioja for him on the way home as a token of thanks. Dads are great (well, mine is anyway!).
separating the wanted from the unwanted