Saturday, 10 August 2019

Cross Talk

In my last message, I seem to recall saying that I was looking forward to a “quiet Summer”. Now, had just one of those two concepts failed me, perhaps I would have shrugged it off. I’m sad to report that so far, both of them are letting me down badly.

Of course, I’ve known worse rain. Significantly worse. I’ve survived rain made of sulphuric acid that ‘fell’ (if that’s the word I want) sideways, so by comparison the British weather is kind of tame. That said, it would be quite pleasant, for a change, not to feel that the plants were getting the better end of the deal – not to mention the ducks.

But the lack of Summer isn’t the issue, of course. It’s more the lack of quiet.

I’ve mentioned (see journals passim) my intense dislike of those who worship at the altar of the decibel, and you might be assuming that I’m about to moan about some noisy all-night barbecue party, or perhaps an amateur mechanic machining a new crankshaft for a Morgan at 10 p.m. However, this time the noise isn’t coming from anything human – or even terrestrial. It’s coming from my police scanner. My Local Federation police scanner. The damn thing has picked up so many reports in this sector, it’s like watching one of those movies in which strange events start occurring all over the place, and then we eventually find out that there’s an alien invasion going on.

I really hope it isn’t that. I’ve had enough of other aliens for now.

I think I’ll go for one of my long underwater walks.