I've just had an e-mail from my mum, who's been in touch with the guy who runs the resident's association for where I live. Apparently the mugging I dealt with is the second attack by the same guy in seven days; essentially, there is some idiot with a big knife out there in my square, thinking nothing about cutting half an old woman's hand up. I'm not terribly happy about this. Half of me wants to hide in my house and never leave again; the other half wants to go out on a vigilante mission. It's ok, I'm leaning toward the first half, I promise.