I am like this picture this morning. Poor HRH says he doesn’t feel well so has gone back to bed.

The neighbours didn’t shut up until nearly 1am, for the second night in a row, when they were stood in the street outside chattering like monkeys before some of them climbed into cars and drove away (why stand outside, where the sound carries and disturbs even more people than when you’re indoors?). I don’t think they’re exactly partying, or doing anything illicit (which means, in plain English, that they don’t look like chavs, but I don’t want to sound judgemental).

They’re just noisy and it’s doing my head in.

Just a tad.


Short of having my own Mr. T., I composed the following. I shan’t send it yet. I need to reflect on whether it says enough, too much, or too little. Any thoughts?


Dear Neighbours,

We don’t know your names as we have not had the pleasure of an introduction in the nearly four weeks we have lived here so far, so we can’t apply a better title to this letter. Yet it is almost as if you are part of the family; after all, we hear you through the wall late at night when we are trying to sleep (because we have a young family and have to get up in the morning whether we like it or not, to look after the sprogs and to remain in gainful employment).

May we say how much we admire your commitment to mastering the art of percussion. We hear you practising the drums over and over (and over and over) during the day.

While we can only applaud your enthusiasm, the repetition, nay intrusion – let’s call a spade a spade – of this banging and bashing and clashing and crashing, into our family home, has led to some rather uncharitable thoughts, along the lines of shoving said drumsticks where the sun don’t shine.

Do enjoy your youth and your zeal for life! But don’t do so at the expense of your neighbours. They’re only trying to mind their own business and get on with theirs.

Please invest in some electronic drums with volume control and headphones. Go on, embrace the digital age! Better yet, find a practise room in a building where there are no neighbours – then you can crash-bang-wallop your heart out.

May we also suggest that a teeny tiny 200-year-old house is not the best choice for late night, boisterous gatherings. Do consider buggering off going somewhere else if you must do this. The pub, perhaps. Pubs love loud voices and raucous laughter. Raise a glass to us while you’re there. Cheers! And do bear in mind your neighbours are also living in teeny tiny 200-year-old houses and are thus quite close by whenever you embark on raucous gatherings within the home; a matter of a few feet, in reality.

Godspeed in your youthful endeavours. Just do them a tad more *softly*.








Yours faithfully

Bleary-eyed Neighbours (who would appreciate some consideration)