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Now the banging makes sense

In a quiet coastal meadow where my studio sits, nestled cosy among 200 other static vans, on the Yorkshire coast. l heard a strange banging. It was about 10 pm. last night. I was in the kitchen preparing my evening medication.

I wondered why someone was starting DIY at this time of night . This was not consistent with my elderly neighbours routines. l looked out the window, no lights on, no car parked. l swallowed down my drugs and shuffled off to bed.

l awoke this morning early, pulled open the curtains and shocked the be Jesus out of a tall leggy, busty, blonde in a Sainsbury's uniform, puffing on a fag surrounded by a smokey halo. In the pouring rain too. I had never seen this woman before.

No, this didn't make sense, must be hallucinating.

l looked again the vision of loveliness was nowhere to be seen. "Its a bit early for Sainsbury's deliveries", I thought.

Sitting in my comfy seat by the window heat pad and massager on gently warming and jiggling my sore spots, Alistair delivering breakfast as he always does (he spoils me rotten). A Sainsbury's uniform again, like lightening racing to a car discreetly parked behind another neighbours van. What's this? A racing man dressed in black fast on the heels of the burgundy and orange uniform. I am not delusional, I know this man, that's not his wife!

Now the banging makes sense!

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