Well well well. Here I am. As usual, I've come to complain about something.
I am going to tell you about a thing that happened in the last 24 hours of my life. Don't get your hopes up though, because I didn't leave the house. Therefore there is a limit to how exciting this can actually be.
Let's get on with it shall we?
Allow me to cast your minds back to February 27th. You may recall that I wrote a blog to complain about an astonishing lack of sleep which was soon followed by an astonishing lack of sympathy. WE FIND OURSELVES HERE AGAIN, FOLLOWERS.
It all began on Saturday evening. We discovered a tent sitting on the field behind our house. I don't know how you feel about that, but I was suspicious. It was much too close to our gate for my liking. It could have been anybody, couldn’t it? A murderer, perhaps. Maybe a terrorist.
Weirdly, everyone else seemed perfectly ok with the strange tent. My mum's logic, for example, was that it could not possibly be a murderer because it was a very nice tent. OF COURSE! Those murderers don't buy expensive tents! How silly of me.
Effectively, I was told to get a grip. The tent was probably just there for some kids to play in. Everything would be fine.
Fast forward to much later on, when everyone had gone to bed and I was watching Moulin Rouge. All of a sudden, I was greeted by the most disgustingly loud scream that any of us will ever hear. I probably don't need to tell you that, at this point, I was on the verge of a heart attack. This was then followed closely by more screaming and a lot of giggling.
Just in case this wasn't loud enough, the racket was then accompanied by the dulcet tones of my stupid dog, who had also been disturbed and who thought the best thing to do would be to bark loudly in the general direction of the noise.
Would you like to guess where the noise was coming from? I'll tell you. THAT ACTUAL BLOODY TENT.
Now, if the noise had stopped at this point, I would have been ok. I would still have complained to everyone who would listen, but I definitely would have coped. As it was, however, I was still wide awake at 3am.
I was horrifically tired by the time it all went quiet. I'm almost positive that I have developed a nervous twitch and my poor eyes were actually vibrating from sleep deprivation.
Today, when I finally woke up at 1pm, my mother’s only response was “Ooh that's not on, is it? Why didn’t you just ring the police?”
The moral of the story here, therefore, is that you should never trust an orange tent. It might look innocent, but at some point it will definitely get full of drunk teenagers and ruin your entire weekend.