Night time in the cemetery certainly has it’s thumps and bumps. Sitting in the Chapel late into the evening had me lit up like a beacon for all manner of passers by. The stained glass windows are illuminated and attract window banging hoodies like moths to a bulb. I’m no shrinking violet when it comes to night time and dark streets. I’ve had my fair share of squeezes and scrapes over the years (though few will ever compare with the attempted cliff-top robbery in Jaipur a few years ago!). The point being I don’t tend to rattle easily.
But last night I was. Still haven’t worked out why exactly. Maybe it was no more than being isolated and with out recourse to instant assistance: since I got my leg chopped off, I ain’t so good at running away these days!
There was something distinctly John Carpenter-ish and siege-like about the faceless hoodies staring through the windows at me, and banging. And banging. And banging. And banging.
The external lighting isn’t what it should be yet (all the more reason for this new bid to be accepted), and having to step out into pitch-black surrounds, where I can’t even see the path in front of me was a bit worrying . Like a brave boy, I just stayed indoors for another 10 minutes or so until it all blew over.
My nice Development Officer has already stepped-up, and passed the incident onto the Police. For that I’m very grateful, as I’m now under extra night-time patrol, with my own armed rapid-response team. Well, I’ve at least got a phone number to call.
Fingers crossed, I won’t be needing it…
