So this is 4am

There's a certain still beauty to the night.

Well, there is now that the pneumatic jackhammers and screaming angle-grinders have been shut down. I'm told it's a small price to pay for living so conveniently close to a London Underground station. If it were 9pm on a Friday after a week of uninterrupted nights of sleep, and I was discussing the issue over a large glass of fragrant merlot in a friendly bar with a group of friends, I might concede the point. Right now, with less than two hours before my radio alarm will hurl me blinking into Friday, it's difficult to be reasonable.

I've sent an email to the LU requesting further information - what was the work for? how many nights will it continue? - using their helpful(?) submission form, only to discover that they "have received my submission and a member of the customer services team will respond within 3 days". Hardly helpful if I'm hoping to avoid the same disruption tonight. No surprise that there is no direct contact information for customer services, neither telephone number nor email address, so I have no (sanctioned) way to accelerate their response. Then again, I'm likely to wake up with the kind of cranky belligerence that will make the usual trial of forging through their defences to get an immediate response enjoyable.

Right, now, however, it's 4am and the night sleeps around me, except for yours truly and the pair of foxes playing in our front garden, and soon they will have the night to themselves.