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Two nights running I woke up with my heart going crazy The first time, as I lay there in the dark, I heard a group of guys outside They were running, shouting ‘Hurry!’ and ‘We’ll miss it!’ I wondered if I should do something, but I couldn’t hear any fighting or smashing glass I got up when they were all gone I kept my light off and parted my blind to look down   There was rubbish under the streetlamps There was a big rectangular bin, its lid open, and all around it was a rim of paper and plastic and leaves   It was August The slats of the blind left black dust on my hand   The next night foxes woke me I knew their swallowed barks but I’d never heard a racket like that before One night when I was really young, before we moved to the estate, our cat was in heat – my mother explained it to me carefully – and as I was closing my bedroom curtains I saw that the tree at the bottom of our yard was full of cats They were switching their tails as the light went down They were all staring, it seemed to me, at me They started up these boylike horny tom cries   I listened to the fox calls and wondered if that was the sort of thing going on If they were courting, in a city tree, or on the roof of a corrugated shed   There’s a park near my flat with a little playground in it, populated by friendly plastic animals One’s a fox, with bright red fur and a blue cap I imagined a bunch of real foxes circling that cartoony figure in the dark   I went and stood outside It was much colder than it should have been, like winter The foxes shut up Under a lamp was a noticeboard for the tenants’ association A torn sign about a coffee morning Recycling A meeting called by a social capital group called OBYOSS, about regeneration The name of one of their organisers was familiar   The playground wasn’t far I went past closed shops and