The noise got louder still. More like quacking. A screeching squeaking quacking. Could it be a pair of ducks, shagging up against a tree? But no, surely duck copulation is not so loud as to penetrate earplugs, a pillow and a giant duvet? Perhaps that last gin & tonic had been unwise.
The noise reached a crescendo. It was unbearable. I called The Husband. Armed with a giant spotlight torch (thank you, Robert Dyas) we went outside to investigate. We shone the torch high up into the trees. And saw something not dissimilar to this:
Having had a poke about on Google, I'm pretty sure what we saw was a Bushbaby. This is rather exciting, as apart from insects, birds, snakes, rats, mice, squirrels and the local drunk, there's no wildlife around here.
As recently as 20 years ago there were elephant, antelope, zebra, giraffe etc in this area, and now there is nothing. Startling the red-eyed nocturnal beast with our high-beam interrogation tool has also put my mind slightly at rest. For only last week there was something far, far bigger than a rat thumping across our roof. I have been refusing to think about what it might be, but surely here is the answer. A Bushbaby.
Welcome Bushbaby! But please keep the noise down...