Last summer my tics suddenly took against Leftwing Idiot’s geranium for no apparent reason.

This season they have a different target and my night time routine goes something like this:

Brush my teeth, take my melatonin, get into bed, start verbally abusing the lamp-post:

“Lamp-post, stop glowing ostentatiously.”
“Lamp-post, why are you loitering?”
“Lamp-post, the trees laugh at you because you’re short.”
“Lamp-post, you’re invading my personal space.”
“Lamp-post, stop ignoring me and fuck your dad.”

I can’t explain why this harmless piece of street furniture’s become the focus of such venom. It may be because I don’t have any blinds up yet and I can see it peering in from my window.

This morning Poppy asked if I thought I’d still abuse the lamp post when I’ve got some blinds. Leftwing Idiot laughed and said yes, I would. He then gave what I suspect is a fairly accurate prediction of what will happen: ‘Lamp-post, I know you’re still there’, ‘Lamp-post, why are you hiding?’