It's the end of four days of our village's annual "fiesta". Each night the music from over the hill has become louder.
The finale's fireworks crash and bang across the fields up behind the house and Vita frantically barks at the noise and the flashing along the horizon. Once over, I reassure her all is well and it's time for bed, but she refuses to be convinced.
So to the laser light show and the thud, thud, thud, of the bass from the disco that will continue til well beyond three in the morning I take her and Bertie for a walk down to the stream and the bridge.
Only the dogs and the creatures of the night are there to see me dancing in the dark.