Nightshift

Outside they're digging up the road. At 1.30am.

Here I am, about to hit the pillow to set myself adrift to think about world order and clever ladies drinking cocktails (a dubious combination, but strangely rewarding - what better to discuss with a clever lady than visions of global harmony?), and a pneumatic drill is beginning to pound through the glazing. How long will it last? I cannot know, but only wait until the silence falls again.

I am now confronted with the challenging of meshing the pounding into my intellectual bar & booze dreams... Suggestions are welcome...