We had another minor faff with the local yobs today, which comes as no great surprise. Earlier in the day, I'd been reading, when there came a knock at the door. Dad had gone out to the shops, so my immediate thought was that he'd come back but forgotten his keys. Unlikely for him, yes, but always a possibility. I went to the door, no-one there. I returned to the living room, and my book.

A second knock. This time, I looked out of the window to see a pint-sized hoodie outside the door. Definitely not normal. Still, I answered. Occasionally we get kids coming round on behalf of their parents to borrow a spanner or a car battery charger. I found this child of indeterminable gender staring at me, expressionless. "Is Ashley there?"

I twigged immediately, regarding both the kid's gender and their reason for knocking. This was a girl; the girl, in fact, who had started knocking about recently, causing trouble. Those of you who've been reading my journal since Ye Olde Says of St. Smellens will probably remember Sasquatch. Well, let me say this; we may have a Sasquatch the Second on our hands. Let's see what the Sasquatch criteria is, and which parts of it she fulfills...

1. Female, but looks like a bloke? Yep!
2. Sounds like a bloke? Yep!
3. Alpha-male tendencies? Oh HAYL YEA.
4. Runs around leading a gaggle of chavlets? Yep.
5. Lacking in gray matter? Most certainly.
6. Pain in the arse? Indeed.

Yes, I do believe we have a Sasquatch II in the making. In fact, she may even merit her own tag, because I see many fafferies regarding her in the future.

Anyway, I had realised she was in fact a girl, and I knew exactly why she was knocking. She's been at it before, knocking on for Ashley despite the fact that he can't stand her. God knows why she does it. maybe she's doing it mockingly, or she just wants a chance to have a go at him. The exchange went, word for word, like this.

HER: Is Ashley there?
ME: No.
HER: (pause) Where is he?
ME: (slams door)

All the while, Ashley was pissing himself with delight in the back room. If I come across as rude in slamming the door, let me just be frank in my explanation. I cannot stand this child. She made sure of that when she made one of her minions snowball me (for no reason) while I was on the way home from work last month.

Still, I let it slide. I returned to my book, read, and forgot about it. As we were watching telly later on, at about six in the evening, the sound of something hitting the house snapped me right out of that forgetfulness. Dad went out and could see nothing - I thought it might have been an egg, but there was no evidence of that. In the dark, though, who can tell? It could have been a clump of dirt. In the house over the road, who we are unfortunately all familiar with now, there was a light on in the hall, and he could see people moving about in there. Kids, judging from their height. Probably throwing stuff and running back inside to hide.

Dad came back in, and I said 'you know, I don't get it. What have we done to provoke them? What is it about us that irks them so much?' - to be honest, I really don't get it.

Dad's answer was probably as baffling. 'I think it's this house.'

Said I, after a confounded pause, 'You what?'

'I think it's this house,' Dad repeated. 'I was talking to the postman a couple of weeks ago - about all the post we've been getting for other people who've just left and not changed their addresses. He's been doing this round for ten years and he said that nobody stays in this house that long.'

Wow. Weird stuff. We get post for about six or seven different tenants, all of whom just up and leave without telling banks, insurance companies and the like that they've changed address. It's odd, like they were just desperate to get out. To be honest, though, we've only had problems with the same three or four kids. Sasquatch II, the two lads over the road and Sasquatch II's sister, the Human Blimp, also involved in the snowball incident. Even then, those four kids haven't been there all that long. I think the ones over the road have only lived there for a year or so longer than us, and Sasquatch II and the Human Blimp have only just started causing trouble. Meanwhile, we're living on ten years - possibly longer - of tenants that have just fled without a trace.

I'm actually really curious, now. What if it's not our rotten luck; it's actually the house? Mind you, I've become convinced that our family is cursed to a life of being harassed by cretins, irrespective of household. I could probably live in piddling Windsor Castle and be hounded unprovoked by yobs.

Well, a lot of Newton-Le-Willows was built upon a Civil War battleground. Hence the area my Dad's from, called Wargrave. Maybe this house was built over a soldier's grave and it's haunted or something. Or maybe there really is just something about our family that makes us ideal yob-bait. God knows. I've thought about many things in my time, figured out my own mind, numerous pieces of literature, even white holes - but the aforementioned continues to elude me. Perhaps it's something that needs investigation. Is our house cursed, or are we just yob-bait? Why?

In case you haven't noticed, I have this crazy need to understand everything. The universe, the world, people. It's all a big, complex mechanism to me.