I emerge from my slumber.
Mike, can you hear that.
No I’m asleeep.
Mike, wake up, there’s someone upstairs. Now fully half awake I listen for some strange sound but I can’t hear anything. Jo gets up and takes a listen from the adjoining room.
We’re currently house sitting in the middle of nowhere and Jo thinks we have a burgular, surely the dog we are sitting would have something to say if someone was breaking in. Maybe not, his owners did say he was frightened of bangs and bumps.
Jo returns. There’s definitely someone moving upstairs, go take a look. But put some clothes on first.
I slowly get out of bed, put on my shorts and make my way up the first flight of stairs. The dog emerges from his bed tail wagging. If there is someone about he doesn’t seem that bothered. I continued up the stairs to the lounge door.
At last I can hear something. There are a couple of bumps and a noise similar to a winch motor. It must be from someone outside on the boat ramp. But we didn’t leave the patio doors open so how come the sound is so clear.
I go to open the door. Jo’s nervous voice behind me tells me to stop and not to go in. I slowly open the fly door, then slightly open the lounge door. The dog plods in. I open the door further an can see a flashing light. I reach in and turn on the light, the dog has sneeked onto his bean bag. Is he hiding from the intruder.
I slowly enter the room and take a quick scan round, the patio doors are still closed, so the winch theory is wrong. I quietly step through the doorway and there on the carpet is the culprit. The terrifying burglar that has come to murder us in our beds. He is rotund and fearless, going about the living room as if he owned it, the robot hoover was going about his nightly duty of cleaning up the floor after us.