I just had a feeling that inneeded to call my brother today. He lives in London and he came home from working the last of his round of nights this morning, totally exhausted. He hadn’t been home long and he heard a strange noise. He went to the front door, checked it over, thought the blonds were rattling on the window. He checked everything was locked and carried on dozing. A few moments later he heard it again, so went to the back door this time. What should he see, but a pale skinny youth with surgical gloves on and a crow bar in his hand trying to prize open the back window. Stunned at seeing someone in the house, the burglar ran off and jumped over the fence.

The police response was faultless but they haven’t found the culprit yet. Not surprisingly, after speaking to the neighbours it seems everyone on the street has a similar story to tell. He now is thinking about installing various deterrents, devices and alarms. It’s not really the material possessions I’m worried about, it’s the fact that my brother and his wife will have that unusual sensation, that eerie feeling that you’re being watched or you’re not home alone. That takes a while to get over. I hope they don’t get anymore of this sort of thing happen, but hope won’t stop me worrying!

I regret not buying the seven or so vintage poetry hardbacks for £20 today. One of which was a first edition Tennyson titled Enoch Arden from 1864, another was the beautifully illustrated collected works of Sir Walter Scott. I managed to knock the chap down from £26, but I was only prepared to spend a max of £16 which unfortunately wasn’t happening. Haggling is delightful but I need more practice so I can win more often!