Yesterday evening we were very quietly sitting at home in our lounge, watching television, trying to keep cool on what must have been the hottest day of the year so far, when there was the loudest and what seemed the most impatient knock on our front door. I didn't exactly rush to answer, and Carol said 'That'll be the Avon lady with the order from the catalogue.' We've been waiting for this for the past few days and we had the money to pay, but as it was late arriving, we had spent some of it on some vital bits of shopping. By now whoever it was at the door was getting more impatient that I hadn't answered, so I picked up my wallet with the expectation of finding the Avon lady standing on the doorstep, bearing a parcel of the ordered items. But no, it wasn't. On opening the door, I revealed the sight of a large, overstuffed gentleman of overbearing face glaring at me. He proceeded to pour forth, in somewhat indesipherable Scottish accent which took some time to understand, that why did I let our dogs out at 6 o'clock in the morning to bark??? He didn't let up with his ranting, barely allowing me to speak, just letting rip with bad language, not allowing me to have my say on the matter, let alone explain that our two dogs weren't the only dogs in the neighbourhood. But he just would not have it. Unreasonable and unresponsive. I'm afraid I shut the door on the headcase, as I simply wasn't going to have to endure his torrent of abuse.