The Bill

I was just getting one of Nigel Slater's double ginger cakes 

out of the oven when 

there was a sharp rapping at my front door.

A neighbour, I was told, had called the police 

because she saw two men in the garden
on the other side of the fence

'who shouldn't be there'.

Radio crackling he hot-footed out to my garden

and peered over the fence.

I saw snowdrops and crocuses

where once there were brambles.

A police helicopter arrived and

wheeled in tight circles overhead.

Dog handlers raced up the alleyway.

Then suddenly, the show was over.

Apparently everything was just fine.

The men who shouldn't be there,

 live in the house.

I doubt that they were gardening

and there may be more to this than meets the eye

but I wasn't being told.

I was complemented on my hall wallpaper.

They apologised for the mud on 
the newly-washed floor and departed.

The cake had cooled,

so I cut myself a slice 
and had it with a nice cup of tea.