As my front door sits next to next door's front door, it sounded as if it were my front door that was being tapped.
I went downstairs to find the tenant of the house next door locked out of her house and clearly thinking someone was in.
She carried on knocking. Then banging. Then shouting and banging. Then kicking.
Then it went quiet until the front door was opened after she'd collected her mother from her house to let her in.
Then there was a lound "discussion" about "responsibility" and "getting real" and how she should "get her life sorted".
This carried on till about 5am. Only then, I nodded off.
At approximately 9am, I was in Birmingham for an interview - so tired that I just wasn't thinking straight.
The preparation I did went straight out of my head, some of the answers I gave the interviewers were just laughable and I just looked and sounded like a giddy, disorganised, girly ditz without a fucking clue.The interview went as ok as it could have done - but again, it was 1 vs 3, the questions were weird ("What story in the media has changed the behaviour of the community around me?") and I was questioned about my depression. At some length.
I did my best, I really did. I made the chairman laugh a few times with my answers, I tried to speak in whole sentences and I stayed awake for the whole thing. I really did.
But I don't think it went very well at all. Especially when they kept picking at the depression angle.
I nodded on the tram home and I came home to find an Anti-Social Behaviour Incident Diary on the doorstep.
The first incident recorded in the diary was how the next door neighbour woke me up.
As the diary was supposed to be all about the neighbours in the next street whose garden abutts mine (you know, the family that reigns supreme), I'm sure there's someone who's going to be getting back to me when I return the diary.