The last thing that one would ever want to hear at my age and especially so if it is the middle of December when the weather is a damp cold and the fickle bones on your body refuse to persist with their persistent rattling and all one can do is curl up in bed, foetal position and all, and wait and hope for the damn dampness to simply pass off, is to get your years assaulted by strange persistent sounds from your backyard.

In no time I think I heard the screeching of tyres followed by the wild blaring of sirens and when they were accompanied by loud shrieks, agonised human voices, I knew something had gone wrong, horribly wrong..

I hurried out of bed, as swiftly fast as I could, my arthritic laden feet and all, and by the time I wriggled past the backdoor onto the road adjoining where we lived, it was all there.

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