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My drug dealer neighbour Breaking Bad has had a big day. I heard a bit of banging and crashing this afternoon, but thought nothing of it as somebody has been moving in a few doors down. Renovations, I presumed.

Then it escalated into smashing of glass. Quite large panes of glass, by the sound of it. Hmm. Serious - and radical - renovations, then. Unusual, but still somewhat plausible.

Then shouting and swearing, more banging and crashing, and I did what one should never do here at the # if one wants to avoid getting a bad reputation, I looked out the window. Other, newer neighbours who don't yet understand Aloha etiquette were showing signs of consternation, thus relieving me of the dilemma of whether to call emergency services.

The boys in body armour duly arrived, knocked on Breaking Bad's door, and went away again. Some time later, the banging and crashing resumed. It's just now getting dark. Wonder what's next from my now windowless neighbour.

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Thought, f**k it, I'm going down the pub for a beer I can't afford. On discreet passing examination, the security grilles on Breaking Bad's windows are now all buckled outwards.

When I got to the pub, the footpath outside was all unsteadily swaying floral dresses. Saturday night, innit? Worst night of the week for a civilised drink.

Went to the surf club to look at the sea instead. Still there. Full moon, high tide. So that's another year till I need check on the status of the Pacific Ocean.

Home again. Early start and long day at # tomorrow. Just downloaded the recent Shane MacGowan biopic, and was going to save it for a special occasion. Nah, it's time. P45, cracks in the ceiling, curry stained mattress, sound of a bedsit, sound of a bedsit…

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Ruben friendica
Living the dream...