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Cock-a-Doodle-Do(ha)

At first I thought I was dreaming. Not unreasonably, as it was still short of 5 a.m. and I was lying in bed at the time. But there was no denying it. I was awake. I had in fact just been wakened, by that most traditional of alarm clocks, a crowing rooster who was still giving it big licks somewhere outside my window. In the countryside this would be unremarkable but in the middle of Doha Muntazah? A quick walk to the window and I soon located the proud cockadoodler, six floors below, on the roof of one of the nearby old houses. I went back to bed, but needn't have bothered, as the call to prayer started up just five minutes later. Normally I sleep through it, but not if preheralded by a surprise cock crow. I suppose I'll get used to it. I'll have to, because it wasn't a one-off. The guy who lives in the old house has a hen-house on the roof and a whole brood of chickens. Almost rural, in an inner city sort of way.
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