What a weekend!

Last night someone came ringing our doorbell and hammering on the door at 10:30 p.m. I was immediately wary. Hubby was prepared to open the door to see who was there until I screamed at him to just look out the window and only open if we know who it is. He looked out. Nobody there. I looked out from the stairwell window. Saw nothing. Nobody. Hmm. We pondered a bit, looked out some more and then went to check the back door and the garage. Nothing unusual there. Back to the front door. Still nobody about. We opened the door and ventured out. Nothing to be seen. Could smell cigarette smoke though. Could also smell it in the hall and the kitchen. I was spooked by this time. Called the neighbour across the street to see if she'd heard anything. She hadn't but appreciated the heads up.

Hubby went to the bathroom. I went to water some flowers. While I was filling up my jug, there was light knock on the door. I panicked. Hubby said I was hearing things. That it was just him in the bathroom. I said if it was only him if he was knocking in there. He wasn't. We ventured to the front door again and looked out. Saw nothing. Eek. Then saw our neighbour's husband standing away from the steps. Phew. He said he hadn't wanted to spook us.

He said he had been in the garden doing some odd jobs and saw two fellows at our door. They had torn off down the side path (which is not visible in the dark so they had to have known it was there.)

Today one of the stone steps was overturned so we didn't dream this.

I hate living here. I hate having to be afraid to open my door. I can't wait to get back to Newfoundland where if someone will hammer on your door only if they need your help badly or if they're mummering.