Our house is situated on a crossroads, halfway down a hill. A wonky street light outside our gate is where people gather to sing songs, gossip and plan criminal activity. Over the road is patch of grass where general noise-makers like to set up shop and opposite our house is a big high wall - last year, a car of pink balaclava'd drug-stealers drove a stolen car into it and smashed it all down.*
There's a squeaky front gate then a little patch of concrete before the steps up to our front door, by the side of the steps is a little nook to get to the side gate, Here's an inaccurate picture of our house
Dogs and people like using the little side nook as a toilet, to do drugs and have sex. The wall by the nook has a thick thatch of ivy where burglars like to park the tools of their trade, best scores so far are several bolt cutters and a heavy duty iron trolley.
Outside our squeaky gate the ivy rampages up the street light sending out prongs of vegetation to attack people walking by. Last week while giving the ivy a trim my shears hit tinny metal, I pulled out a brass candle holder, like the one Wee Willie Winkie used, it had a candle stump in it. I've bought it in and cleaned it off - it's a cheap, scarred little thing, it doesn't look like the spoils of a heist so I'm wondering if it's another burglary tool - maybe an old-school cat-burglar who hasn't heard about modern torches yet.
* two weeks ago - exactly a year after that the wall was smashed down - a bobble-hatted man and a skinny lad, turned up and built the wall back up. It was finished yesterday, a shiny big car pulled up next to it and a spivvy character in a suit and dark glasses got out, inspected the wall and signed it off as satisfactory.
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