I was made to live on a desert island…

**Once again, I’d like to thank all of you who have been kind enough to send me such caring messages. It really means a lot that you have taken the time to send us all these little supportive comments. If I could send you all chocolate, I would!**

I’ve decided that, on the whole, neighbours should be banned. There should be a strict vetting process before people are allowed to live in close proximity with others, and those who fail the vetting process should be exiled to a very crowded commune, a long way from civilisation, along with all the other inconsiderate idiots who make their neighbours lives a misery.

As you may be able to pick up, if you are talented at detecting nuances from the writing of others, we are having some problems with those who live around us. Unfortunately, as we live in a flat, it’s literally people who live around us. We have neighbours directly overhead who think nothing of parties until four in the morning, and although these don’t happen that often, most of the other nights we can enjoy the relaxing sound of a four year old being chased up and down the flat by her parents at half past ten at night. Not to mention the regular loud and heated domestic arguments and the incessant playing of their ‘Coldplay’ album (I’m wondering if they own any other music). Then there are the neighbours diagonally above who rent the flat and don’t give a monkeys who they disturb with their stomping up and down the stairs and slamming of doors at all hours of the day or night. Not to mention the phone calls which they feel a need to take in the communal hallways at significant volume. I sometimes feel like going and joining in the conversation. But our favourite of their activities has to be when, as happened last night, their friends show up in the early hours and hammer on the security door to be let in, and then ring each doorbell in turn. Let’s be clear; the security door at the entrance of the flats is just on the other side of the wall from the head of our bed. Their flat is on the second floor. I’m assuming that they don’t hear the pounding as easily as we do. And the doorbell ringing is extremely special. They obviously aren’t in their right minds because what sane person would expect any one of us in the other flats to buzz in a drunk person who has spent the last twenty minutes standing outside the building screaming at the top of their voice? After about fifteen minutes the tenant graciously let the screaming, drunk, hammering woman in, only to stomp up the stairs, slam the door, have an argument (yes, we could hear it clearly from that far away!), come back downstairs and let her out again (slamming the door just for good measure). I think a trip to their letting agents may be on the cards for me. Not that I expect that to improve matters; these tenants are actually significantly better than the last ones. These ones at least don’t stand in the hallway screaming obscenities for no known reason at the other residents of the block!

In theory, there is a phone number we could call to alert the police or the noise pollution officer to the problem. In practice, we’ve tried this before and nothing happened. I miss so much our house in Mid-Wales. It was a detached bungalow in the middle of an acre of land, surrounded by trees. Peace and quiet was the norm, and if you heard a car you’d get up to see what was going on. I’d dearly love to pick up that house and land and put it down in the middle of Cardiff (pick carefully and I could obliterate quite a lot of other buildings in the process!). We crave tranquillity. Perhaps when we move we could look to build a large wall around the perimeter of our new house and maybe install the finest soundproofing that money can buy. Until then I shall continue, I expect, to fume, within the confines of my own flat, about the thoughtless nature of some of those with whom I live in such close proximity.

And yes, in answer to the unspoken question, my early training to become a grumpy old woman is going very well, thank you.

Advertisements

2 Responses

  1. Aaah yes there is nothing quite apartment dwelling. My wife Jann and I lived in an apartment when we first …well stated living together. The woman who lived next door was single but it seemed that she did have a boyfriend who would visit on occasion. He drove a very fancy red Corvette, and we could always tell when Mr. Red Corvette was over, by the banging of the her headboard against our bedroom wall. That’s not to say we didn’t have an occasion to do some rockin’ and knockin’ ourselves.
    Yup, there is nothing quite like the apartment life.Take care, have some fun, and try to make a little noise would ya! AJ

  2. My neighbours are terrible. They wake up at the crack of dawn and start singing, scatter their food everywhere and guilt trip *me* into buying more for them and have been known to come into my living room and defecate on my windowsill!

    *gets coat and runs away very fast*

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: