venta

I was woken up this morning - at 5:21am, I might add - by a mysterious tapping noise. About three loudish clicks, of no particular origin. Followed by a quiet wail. Then silence. Bemused, I went back to sleep.

At 6:09, I was woken by the same clicks, but much louder. It sounded as if they were coming from the wall by my head. Was it Eve, the elderly lady in the next flat, banging for help? Surely not. Two or three irregular, single, sharp taps would be a weird way to signal to anyone. And again some quiet wailing.

This time, I stayed awake. On the very edge of hearing, the wail continued, notes rising and falling as of a distressed and disconsolate theremin.

Suddenly, my bedroom lit up! Oh no, that's not supernatural activity, that's just my phone doing the stupid Android thing of telling you it's 100% charged. Unfortunately, the act of switching its backlight on slightly depletes the battery, so a few minutes later, it makes it up to 100% again and notifies you by turning the backlight on. Etc.

The theremin continued to be upset. Oh, and was that a crying baby? There are, as far as I'm aware, no babies in my block of flats. I counted off the familiar noises: a bus going up the hill, the background hum of the A40. A distant siren. The tiny tick noise that radiators make when they think no one's listening. No, not a baby. Just the ongoing sobbing of an unhappy electronic instrument.

The room lit up more dimly, as it does when someone switches the staircase lights on. Doors opened, and closed. And presumably someone took the theremin out for a walk, because I didn't hear it any more.