Woken at 2.10 a.m. by banging sound outside in the road. Five youths, one very drunk and one wearing a very distinctive hoodie are vandalising two keep-left bollards. Phone police. Return to looking out of window. Youths are still vandalising the bollard. Looks like a weird ceremonial dance round the sacred road furniture until they prise one of them off its mountings.
Drunk one raises the bollard high above his head to throw it into the bushes but over-balances backwards and collapses in a sprawled heap in the road. Very entertaining. As his mate attempts to help him up a police car arrives. Very fast. Two minutes since call. Sensibly using no sirens.
To the cries of 'Police stop' (yeah that'll work but I suppose it's got to be said) lads leg it except for drunk one who tries to but tacks. The three other lads drag/carry the drunk across the common until, I am now told, the police catch them.
Two back-up cars arrive.
Fifth lad hides in a garden opposite my house, behind the hedge, until the police have run off and then walks nonchalently back down the road. Sadly for him I have been watching him all the time from my bedroom window. He is the one in the distinctive hoodie. Describe him to police who go to find him.
Feel a bit of an idiot in bare feet and dressing gown out in the road but overcome by vague feeling of public duty and superiorness to other neigbours who have remained in bed (this time - we sort of take it in turns).
Lose 90 minutes sleep minimum. Yesterday's dream was better than this truth.