Crazy Gets Crazier

At 1.30 this morning, I couldn't sleep. I heard people shouting in the street but, not realising that one of them was Kathryn next door, was too scared to go and look.

At 10.30am, as I was still in pyjamas and dressing gown making coffee, Sara from other next door knocked on the door, holding part of our wing mirror, and explaining that our car had been vandalised, along with about seven others down the street, and that I should probably not tell my parents yet so I don't worry them.

I went to go see Kathryn next door, and she said that she had been up at 1.30, seen teenage boys running down the street kicking cars, and had gone outside to yell at them. Seeing them kick our wing mirror so it dangled off the car, she chased them down the street and then called the police, who said that each car owner had to report the crime individually. She asked if I could call on my parents' behalf, being eighteen. They said yes.

So I went on a hunt for the car details and found them in an upstairs filing cabinet, then rang the police from Kathryn's house (not 999, the local police station.) That part was pretty cool. Reporting the crime and giving them the car details, my Dad's details (it's in his name) and my details and everything. And now Kevin next door is trying to fix my laptop (I'm on the home computer) in exchange for me providing part of their lunch, as they did not have any bread.

I am not telling my parents until a couple of days before they come home, because I want them to know before they actually see the trashed wing mirror.

Part of the wing mirror is on the dining table. It's bizarre.