So it’s quarter to three in the morning and I need a pee. In an effort to make the trip worthwhile I decide on a bowl of Shreddies. As it’s a full moon I decide to use the light in the cooker hood for minimum illumination so I can eat them in our moonlit garden. Incidentally do you every use your cooker hood? Our three-position fan control switch has never passed electricity for years, even when grilled and blackened lamb chops set off the smoke alarm. I’m sure it’s a ‘must have’ purchase that has no use in reality. I digress. I take my cereal to the swing seat and gaze at the moon. Half way through a light appears; a bright white spot of light hovering about fifteen feet above the ground near our neighbour’s house. It swings around like the frantic gaze of some mystical one-eyed beast silently scanning for prey. A mini space ship? As it scans it settles on me, and takes a long hard look. It looks away and scans a bit more. I realise it is my neighbour checking for intruders from their bedroom window with one of those million candlepower torches they sell cheap because they suck a battery dry in minutes. In the silence I wonder, do I wave, smile, do I shout to this intense silent light that it’s only me eating Shreddies in the garden at three o’clock in the morning in nothing but a dressing gown? The light goes out and peace resumes. A wife is placated and two husbands go back to bed.
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