Evil thoughts on a hot night in Oxford

Whatever I had, I think M has come down with. He is lying in bed not able to cope with the world at all. Last night he went up about three hours before I did. All evening I had heard noise from back gardens, but it was only when I went upstairs that I realised it was all coming from one group of people, who were braying loudly in that alcoholic posh way I remember so well from university.

The room was like an oven, but when you opened the doors at the end (it has one of those balconies that you can just about stand on) you got deafening shrieks and bass howling and ra ra ras. And my poor boyfriend was lying there in airless darkness because he couldn't bear the noise that came with the breeze.

And it was gone midnight. I went outside and shouted 'Hey! Loud people! Can you keep it down please!'

Nothing. So I shouted again 'Oy! Loud people! Keep it down please!'.

Nothing. I went back in, closed the door. Too, too hot. Opened the door. Posh screeching.

So I went out again and yelled 'Oy! It's fucking Monday! Shut up shut up shut up!'

I think they heard that, but it didn't work for long.

M went downstairs to sleep. I opened the doors and the skylight and fumed.

Then the idea came to me. I would go out to the shed, get the ladder, prop it up against the hedge, get the hose and soak the bastards! On the blastiest setting it would surely get across the two intervening gardens, plop down on their nasty little gathering and get their spliffs wet.

Got my pyjamas on and went down to recruit M as helper -- ladder a bit wobbly you see.

Jo, he said, I think you're a bit drunk.

Well, that trampled on *my* flower so I went back upstairs and actually they did quieten down fairly soon after.

But how much fun would that have been? There's still a while to go before the end of term, maybe I'll get another chance.

joella