Second Helpings

No Peace for the Wicked

Hello weekend, my old friend

You've come to torture me again.

In the distance I hear squealing

I have that irritated feeling.

And the nighmare scenes that echo in my brain

Will remain

As I listen to

The sound of sirens.

With apologies to Art Garfunkel and Paul Simon. It's true our brains block a lot of sounds we don't need to hear. Our own footsteps, the refrigerator hum, general traffic noise, background music and water pipes can easily go unnoticed when we're busy concentrating on other tasks.

Why my brain won't ignore loud football commentaries, crunching eaters, ceiling raising snorers, pot clanging and throat clearing males I don't know. I don't want or need to hear those sounds either, but I suppose because I find them so annoying, I hone in on them.

Over the years I've noticed the increase in the number of times a day I hear the sirens of emergency vehicles. Having a worst scenario type of mind I always believe it's a friend or relative who needs an ambulance, fire engine or police car. At weekends it's almost continuous and I can't help but ponder if every siren is a real emergency or if the crews of vehicles are in a hurry for a tea break.

I don't live in a particularly large town, so the number of times emergency vehicles are heard must mean almost everyone who lives here has an accident, house fire, break in, heart attack or a pet stranded in a tree at least five times every weekend. A peaceful weekend is a thing of the past with the constant wailing of sirens.

At least when night falls it calms down, but just as the sirens stop, the whirring of police helicopters kicks in. I'm starting to think I must live in the sin centre of England and if it was safe, I should be out there gathering all the information for crime writing.

It's all so very wearing and tiring. In fact if I don't get a good night's sleep I may be driven to commit a murder myself and I'd hate to start another day listening to the sound of sirens. But then maybe a spell in prison writing my memoirs would be peaceful by comparison. I've never enjoyed silence, but right now it would be sweet music to my ears.