More from the front line of summer insomnia in the wee sma' hours.
It was probably fifteen years ago I saw Spike Lee's seminal film, on a hot sultry night in Streatham. Few films have succeeded so well in evoking the tensions simmering on such a night, as the oppressive heat pushes people to the limit of their frayed nerves, to the extent that whenever such a night occurs, I am reminded of the film.
Last night was unexceptional. I was dozing rather than sleeping, only for my slumbers to be interrupted by a vehicle. The same vehicle that I had heard the previous night and had put down as a street-cleaning vehicle. I assume it to be that because apart from the noisy engine and the irritating beep-beep-beep which seems to be de rigeur for a reversing vehicle, there is also a sound similar to brushes whirring and whirring. But I find it unlikely that my back-street is being swept at any time, let alone at 3.30 am on weekend nights.
I am determined to find out what this vehicle is, so I look out the window, remembering to wrap myself in the curtain for reasons of decorum and modesty. I glance around the neighbourhood, surprised at how many houses have lights still on. I do not see the noisy vehicle but I wonder how many of those lights are for security (for the burglars; to ward off demons), indicative of people being up or just sheer laziness/forgetfulness. I notice more lights come on in neighbouring houses, presumably illumination by those woken by the vehicle, which might be a ghost ship for all I know. I glance again at a window that was already lit when I took up my position. Suddenly a naked lady comes into view. A glance in my direction and she backs away. I know which house she lives in, but I don't think I would recognise her in the street, not with her clothes on, anyway. And, anyway, earlier in the day she might have been able to see me lying in my back garden dressed as if I was on a beach (bloody sun, I have now gone blonde, at least at the ends...)
I find it intriguing and strange that there is so much activity at 3.30 am. My neighbourhood is characterised by small semi-detached cottages - some of them subdivided - with tiny gardens, so there are dozens of people with bedrooms visible from mine. I woke again at about 6.30, because Jimmy's alarm clock was sounding. As I lay in bed listening to the sounds of a neighbourhood waking up, realising the air was fresher (had their been rain?) I felt a sense of tranquillity. Despite the vehicle noise, engines revving and the beep beep beep of reversing, it seemed peaceful. I remembered another hot spell, in Streatham, when a performance sports car had its alarm (high pitched whistle and the horn sounding) malfunctioning so that it went off and carried on going for an over an hour on three consecutive hot sultry nights. In desperation I pulled on some clothes and went down to leave a hastily scribbled note, only to encounter two neighbours with the same idea and a further four previously left notes under the windscreen wipers. The two neighbours, strangers to me, dissuaded me from bending and breaking the windscreen wipers. I remembered the night of a bad-tempered 'Equalities' Forum in the Town Hall when half a dozen people predicted "There's going to be a riot..." (it's a Brixton thing). A couple of hours later the thunder came, postponing the riot to a later occasion (Christmas, actually, hmm...). I later discovered that that night saw a then record number of A&E admissions for breathing and chest-related disorders. No doubt that figure has been exceeded since.
I reflected that there seems to have been a downturn in the frequency of car alarms going off. Half an hour later, yeah, you've guessed it. At least three times.
I was thinking of going back to sleep when there was a knock on the door: a visitor popping in from Australia for a couple of days (Jimmy's religious nutter brother-in-law). I invited him in, served coffee etc. He stayed for an hour, on his absolutely best behaviour. He didn't mention religion, I didn't mention politics! But I think I shall go back to bed. Because I can!
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