I left work at 9.30pm last night, went to bed at 1am, and was woken up by kids talking at the playground at 7am.

They just went on and on, all 7 of them, all teenage delinquents, most likely drunk, or on drugs.

I couldn't possibly call the police this time, so I tried to bear with it.

But it just cheesed me off so badly, that these useless kids who have nothing better to do and too lazy to find a job, are affceting my rest.

I had breakfast and did the usual morning thing, then I crashed back to bed at 9am. Spencer bit my ankle, as a form of protest.

I don't know what time those kids left, but I know they are from the third floor.

Spencer was sleeping on the sofa when I woke again at 11.30am. Still tired.