a rude awakening
Four am last Thursday night, Frank and I were rudely awakened from our sleep by the sound of a tornado rushing towards us. Or at least it was what I think a tornado might sound like, since I've never been on the same continent as a tornado, leave alone seen or heard one.
So, a loud wooshing noise dragged us from our dreams (I hate being woken mid dream. I've developed the art of putting them on hold and returning to them after the disturbance, though that wasn't possible on this occasion) and left us sitting bolt upright, hearts drumming a tattoo of fear.
The whole thing kind of reminded me of Super Grover... is it a bird, is it a plane? No! It's Super Grover!
Is it a tornado? Is it a bus that's lost it's brakes? No! It's a.... white Ford Falcon that's come to a halt right in front of our house.
Thankfully Frank is not such a fraidy cat as me! I lay in bed, absolutely still, fear reducing my breathing to short gasps, fists clenched. Frank got up to investigate. (Don't open the door Frank, they might come and get you! Please stand back from the window, they might see you!)
There was slamming of car doors, swearing, more slamming of car doors.
Just when I decided that I was calling the police if this didn't stop - hey presto, the police turned up!
I should at this point explain the area we live in. It's not too unpleasant, close to the centre of town, a blend of nice places and hovels. Don't even get me started on the neighbour four doors down... we're talking hovel with a capital H! Of course, our house is one of the nice ones, but over our back fence? It's housing commission (government subsidised housing). And some not so nice people live there. Some nice people live there too, but I mostly think about the not so nice people and am a little afraid and disgusted. (I know, I shouldn't discriminate in this way. Shame Cecily, shame)
So when a strange car pulls up outside our house at 4 am and people slam the car doors and swear loudly - I'm thinking they're up to no good. And I'm scared. Police turning up is a good thing!
Well, to cut a long (and not that exciting) story short, the swearing continued, another police van turned up, one man was thrown in the back of it, and the door slamming continued until common sense prevailed and they all gave up.
I know all this because trusty Frank stood at the window and relayed the information to me. Meanwhile I lay tense and still in bed.
Finally the sound of silence returned to our street. And in the morning we found this installed out the front...
I don't think the car was stolen (that was my first thought)... I think they were just very, very bad drivers. Maybe drunk, maybe drugged. Who knows at 4 am. (Come on Cecily - give them some credit! Maybe they were leaving for an early job as a milk delivery man! And they were so tired they crashed)
Whatever. Today someone came and took the car away, and all that's left to remind us of our exciting late night entertainment is a couple of bleary eyes!
Life in quiet Tasmania, hey!