A Little Sunday Oddity.

I’m a bit of a recluse, right? I go to bed somewhere around 3am and usually get up at about 10.30. At 10.30 this morning I was musing on the prospect of facing the day when there was a knock on my door, and that’s a bit strange.

The few people who knock on my door are either couriers delivering something, workmen calling by arrangement, or meter readers. It happens on average about six times a year, and never on a Sunday. The only social visitor I ever get is Mel who has to be picked up from the station. My neighbour knocks occasionally, but never if the curtains are closed. The Lady B has never knocked before and appears to have consigned me to perdition’s flame anyway.

So who was knocking on my door at 10.30 on a Sunday morning?