My wish for a day off did not come true. Eid was declared to be on Sunday rather than Monday and all the finger and toe crossing came to nothing in the face of the moon. There is something quite extraordinary about the fact that in this high tech/high speed world some things stay very simple. It is only by looking at the moon that the date of Eid can be ascertained. The city was in a festive mood and celebrations went on late into the night. Far too late in some circumstances.
The disco which lies directly outside our front gate normally has an enthusiastic evening on Friday and Saturday and usually ends by around 10pm. Last night, however they were still going strong at 2am and in between each number the DJ enjoyed grabbing the mike and yelling with glee and fervour at his patrons. It can only be described as torture. As I lay awake, pillow clenched over my head I repeated the mantra over and over again: “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.” Eventually I turned on the light and read. There was no fighting it. I did have some violent fantasies concerning the throwing of hand grenades but they only made the pain worse. I hate to be a party pooper but there is nothing more selfish than depriving another of sleep. Especially when she needs to confront various teens in a classroom the next day.