(diaryland) October 09, 2009 - 3:04 p.m.

I've been meaning to write about this for a long time.

I go to Carnegie Library every Monday evening. The sun has just about always set by then. I park my car at the end of a lonely alleyway. I walk through a corridor of ramshackle garage doors past a playground that never has anybody in it. Past the playground is the library.

The playground is the worst playground to go past after the sun has set. The reason is that maniacal laughs emanate from the playground. These maniacal laughs are degraded recorded maniacal laughs, which is the worst type. There are at least three types of laughs. The laughs belong to a series of one-metre high 'book worms' grouped in the nearest corner of the playground and they look kind of cute in the daytime, and sound only slightly off-putting when they laugh during daylight hours, but in the night-time, it's very much like the beginnings of a horror film.

I think when I go past, it sets them off. They seem to be able to tell when I'm coming and going, and also, more worryingly, when I'm standing around the entrance of the library, waiting for someone.

One evening, there will be a new recorded maniacal laugh that I don't recognise. And then I'll really be in trouble.