Interesting start to the day. Woken at 6.30 (yes, that's 6.30 on a Sunday morning) by pounding dance music. Loud enough to be perfectly audible, loud enough to wake me up. No obvious source, except that it's clearly outside and fairly close. What idiot will play music that loud, that time, that day? March about the house grumpily (Mrs M is away so can be more grumpy on my own) but find no source and retire back to bed to seethe for an hour.
Get up, still grumpy at 7.30, music still on, audible inside house with windows closed. V grumpy now. Why should I have to have my windows closed on a Sunday morning cos some inconsiderate tosser wants to play his music that loud.
Eventually set off to find source of music and have it out with them. Much peregrinating later, conclude it clearly isn't local and decide to go for walk on moors to ease grumpiness. Naturally, find music. On moors, easily two miles away as crow flies.
Illegal rave in woods behind Ringinglow village. Music at ear-bleeding volume and bridle track over moors blocked with crusties and dilapidated vans. Have "red mist" moment.
Actually, have many red mist moments. Am invited to take stick out of arse and join rave. Threaten to wrap stick round pineapple and shove up ....
Spit particularly venomous epithet at one languid crustie. Couple of minutes later hear plaintive "did you call me a #*#*? Here, he called me a #*#*!!" suspect it would take him best part of 10 mins to formulate thought that he would want to thump me. Pah.
Find one crustie fast asleep in passenger seat of old panel van. Observe closely to be sure is fast asleep. Slap side of panel van hard as poss with palm of hand. Almighty bang. Wakes up so fast bangs head on windscreen. Laugh? Lay on the ground!
For the record, no objection to crusties per se. Also no objection to loud music, festivals etc. But have vigorous objection to being woken at 6.30 on Sunday morning by inconsiderate tossers.
Going for a kip now, have more or less calmed down.