Not living on the ground.
I was just reminded today as I was checking the mail. There was a note at our door. Someone further down the street had had an attempted burglary. When living in our last house, one night I sat up in bed wondering what had woken me up. Then I heard it clearly. Steps, slowly, below our bedroom windows. I woke O up and as I went to the window I heard someone running on the driveway gravel. After that several neighboring houses were burglared and my sleeping troubles started. Looking back I have always felt uneased in a house on my own, even in my parents house where I grew up. But not in a flat, away from the ground. Nope.
I don't miss the ground one bit.
The *gaaah* of the day: Just received a letter from our bank in Sweden. They had managed to address the letter to an address we had in 2001, even though we opened the account with them earlier this year *thank you Skatteverket*. It also had a stamped note on it saying: "Missent to Iran"
2 comments:
nice view from the office indeed. Why not lend forward a bit and watch the delivery men waiting patiently at the wrong doors, or why not watch the latest one who apparently went to the right address but decided not to ring the bell? Fantastic. :) Autumn is here. London is getting cooler - at last.
Ta inte i så Peter!
Hösten e här med *brrr* ;)
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