A helicopter is buzzing around outside my window like a distant fly searching perhaps for a dog poo on the lamb. It flits backwards and forwards without much sense of an organised flight path and at times the sound disappears completely. During this time it is probably alighting on one of the city's larger window sills to spend some time rubbing its runners together in that way that makes flies seem to suggest they are planning a large investment some time soon.

I sincerely hope that it does not begin to bang aimlessly against my window or become trapped in my room.