The trouble is that I actually live in one of the nicer ("much sought after" as estate agents would put it) areas. Where I live there are lots of rough areas evenly distributed among the nice areas (or perhaps its the other way round) so even if you're not in a bad area, you're never far from one. I'm very attached to my house, but my contract at work has come to an end and there doesn't look like much chance of getting another one, so I may have to sell up anyway. I guess the thought of getting away from the yobs will make the wrench a bit easier.
Reminds me of a line from an Ella Wheeler Wilcox poem; "For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own"
I wonder if I could passify the yobs by reading poetry to them...