bobble

So, what have I been up to lately? Not sleeping is the answer.

One essay down and one to go next week and I have finished all my work for the academic year, I should by rights be feeling chipper. Not so.

Two weeks ago a family of foxes moved into the block communal gardens behind our flat or rather I should say under our flat, due to a dirty great ruddy hole so kindly put there by the incompetence of our freeholder Southwark Council.

Nightly, we have screams, fights and digging (with such gusto that it would put the tunnellers in ‘The Great Escape’ to shame) under our bedroom, lounge and kitchen windows. Noisy fucking shitty little blighters. I think you can sense I am a wee bit put out here. As a person who is against fox hunting and considers herself an animal lover it is doubly peeving.

The fox problem neatly coincided with a letter from the freeholder containing the much awaited engineers report about why the foundation work could not be undertaken from outside our flat and why we have to move out from our home this coming Autumn. Reading on with growing alarm at such phrases as ‘floor collapse’ and ‘not supportable in court should the worse happen’ I came across this gem… just to make me feel worse (the gits) “… the void below the slab is like to be infested with foxes, rats and other vermin.”

Dear sweet fucking Jesus, can anything else go wrong or be wrong with our first home?

So we have researched. As foxes are not counted as pests (oh yes they bloody well should be) there is little to be done apparently by the council. Websites say one should cherish our little urban fox friends and learn to live with them. To that I say have you tried not fucking sleeping for two weeks? We have diligently plugged holes in the lawn as they have appeared with stones, poured yet further stones (futilely) into the large hole in the tarmac in our carpark (located under our kitchen window), tried to throw off their sent / marking by pouring water with disinfectant down the holes and around the property and made sure our bins are secure. We’ve even gone out to shoo them at 3am when they have been screeching without end under our bedroom window. But to no avail… we are now looking at sonic fox deterrents, anything really to get an unbroken nights sleep.

The council have referred our case to something called ‘The Fox Project’. No doubt some treehuggers will turn up shortly and attempt to commune with them on the astral fucking plane with the spirit of Herne the Hunter, or something.

Your grumpily,

Bobble

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 9th, 2007 at 3:40 pm and is filed under Affairs, Undefinable. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Subscribe to this comment feed at Bloglines. Both comments and pings are currently closed.