Raise the Alarm

In the middle of a dream about clouds and warm fluffy kingsize duvets, with morning sunlight playing on the far wall of the bedroom and the lids of my eyes, the phone rang. Rudely awakened by my dad's neighbours letting me know his burglar alarm is going off. I drag myself out of bed, worried about three things, where's he gone so early on a Saturday morning, will I walk into a ransacked house, or what if he's not gone anywhere but died in the night. I ring him while I throw on clothes, no answer. I get out of the house, run to catch the bus which fortunately is coming along the road. Get to the house, open up, rush round checking doors, windows and bedrooms. Nobody is here. Nothing is disturbed. Relief.

The neighbours ring round and invite me for a cup of tea. After they had called me the police came round - called by a boy of about 10 who saw a man climbing over their garden wall. 3 burley officers came round and climbed over our shared garden fence from their side to Dad's side - over a step ladder, getting stuck on our climbing rose. They poked around, found nothing can came back again.

We sit in their garden, watch two swans drift past on the canal that's next to their house and talk about art. A kingfisher sits in the low branches of a weeping tree for a moment before flying off with a flash of blue.