HAVE you heard about the unidentified creature prowling the streets of Oxford in the early hours of every morning?

Described as – and I’m paraphrasing here – “a big, lurching blob of strange noises” it seems incredible to me that he, or she, still remains at large.

After all, it’s alright for you; you’re tucked up safely in bed. I have to be out and about in the darkness.

You see, each day by 4am, unshaved and unwashed, I’m out on the streets of Oxford.

Not in any constructive way of course. It’s not like I’m in training for the Great North Run or even doing any guerrilla gardening (indeed, I’ve never really understood what inspires people to get up in the middle of the night and plant pansies in the middle of Cutteslowe roundabout).

No. I am on the streets of Oxford heading into work.

A little dazed and always confused, I rarely stop to take in the fantastic opportunity this provides for me to see our city painted in a way most of us never do.

And before you start, staggering out of a late night club or bar, barely able to remember your own name let alone where it is you are, is simply not the same.

Somehow, there is something very special about being up so early in the morning.

Admittedly, after four years of waking in the middle of the night, it IS beginning to lose its magic.

Nonetheless, there is such peace, such stillness, that it’s a refreshing contrast to how Oxford normally is, what with cars and buses replaced with clear roads and empty pavements.

That is, until I heard about the creature.

You see, there is an underlying suspicion that greets every activity at this unusual hour.

Things you don’t think about twice in broad daylight become weird, out of character and imbued with murderous intention.

Yes, urban legends build with every cat purr, every gust of wind, every gate crashing shut.

Admittedly, I personally have never seen anything suspicious enough to make me want to call the police, but a few weeks back, there was a knock at the door of my studio just moments after I’d got into work.

“Hello sir,” said the policeman in front of me. “We’re checking out reports of a large, cumbersome, some might say ‘unsettling’ creature being spotted around here.

“Anything you want to get off your chest, sir?”

I took a sharp intake of breath.

“Er … where? … er … when?...” I squeaked.

“Understandable sir,” said the patient Pc. “But see, it’s always at this time, and ALWAYS outside the BBC. Indeed, and you may want to sit down sir – some might say it’s the most revolting thing they’ve ever seen.”

I stopped and a faintly relieved look fell shiftily across my face.

“I’ll keep my eyes open” I ventured, as I lurched forward to shut the door.

But I won’t.

After all, my secret’s safe with me...