"Well go on then, GO!"*
Regular readers will no doubt recall Lady Bracknell's joy at the recent exit of her unpleasant neighbour. Lady Bracknell is what is generally referred to as an "owner occupier", but the surly young woman in question was a tenant. One moreover who, presumably, still has some little time left to run on her lease.
Lady Bracknell is currently rather unwell and has therefore had to cancel her usual engagements. Having risen at 6 yesterday morning, she had retired back to bed to suffer in peace when her somewhat feverish repose was interrupted by a cacophonous din from the communal stairwell. Covert observation revealed the fact that her erstwhile neighbour had returned, and was gleefully engaged in tossing what remained of her furniture down the stairs as noisily as possible in the general direction of the attendant pantechnicon from Bulky Bob's.
Lady Bracknell is in behopes that this was the last visit but, given that the young woman has actually taken away the mortice lock from the front door to her flat, it surely cannot be beyond the bounds of possibility that she is planning to return on further occasions to help herself to the floorboards. (She seems strangely indifferent, however, to the ugly rotary clothesline in the back garden which Lady Bracknell has seen her utilise only once in eleven years. It would, of course, be beneath Lady Bracknell's dignity to suggest at this point that she may only have laundered her shell suits once in that same time period.)
Although Lady Bracknell is only a very little improved today, she is pleased to report that her morning doze lasted for several hours and was eventually terminated by the much more welcome intrusion of an enquiry from the editor's friend Pop as to whether she was feeling any better. She is willing to wager that Pop has never clad his compact frame in a shell suit. Nor, indeed, taken a screwdriver to the fixtures and fittings of any house he was vacating. It is unfortunate that, whilst one can take great care to choose as friends only those persons of whose integrity and character one firmly approves, one cannot choose one's immediate neighbours...
* A classic line spoken by Buxton in the seminal film, "Dougal and the Blue Cat".
Lady Bracknell is currently rather unwell and has therefore had to cancel her usual engagements. Having risen at 6 yesterday morning, she had retired back to bed to suffer in peace when her somewhat feverish repose was interrupted by a cacophonous din from the communal stairwell. Covert observation revealed the fact that her erstwhile neighbour had returned, and was gleefully engaged in tossing what remained of her furniture down the stairs as noisily as possible in the general direction of the attendant pantechnicon from Bulky Bob's.
Lady Bracknell is in behopes that this was the last visit but, given that the young woman has actually taken away the mortice lock from the front door to her flat, it surely cannot be beyond the bounds of possibility that she is planning to return on further occasions to help herself to the floorboards. (She seems strangely indifferent, however, to the ugly rotary clothesline in the back garden which Lady Bracknell has seen her utilise only once in eleven years. It would, of course, be beneath Lady Bracknell's dignity to suggest at this point that she may only have laundered her shell suits once in that same time period.)
Although Lady Bracknell is only a very little improved today, she is pleased to report that her morning doze lasted for several hours and was eventually terminated by the much more welcome intrusion of an enquiry from the editor's friend Pop as to whether she was feeling any better. She is willing to wager that Pop has never clad his compact frame in a shell suit. Nor, indeed, taken a screwdriver to the fixtures and fittings of any house he was vacating. It is unfortunate that, whilst one can take great care to choose as friends only those persons of whose integrity and character one firmly approves, one cannot choose one's immediate neighbours...
* A classic line spoken by Buxton in the seminal film, "Dougal and the Blue Cat".
posted by
Lady Bracknell | Friday, October 20, 2006
5 Comments:
May I recommend to Lady Bracknell the "earsoft FX" brand of earplugs, available from motorbike shops, as an effective, comfortable and non-confrontational way of dealing with problem neighbours. I buy mine in bags of 26 pairs, they work out about 20p per pair and are the best ones I've tried.
"Blue is beautiful, blue is best.
I'm blue, I'm beautiful, I'm best."
The Goldfish still has nightmares about that film, somewhat compounded by the fact that she has never seen it, but had an LP of the soundtrack as a small child. Thus she was forced to make her own terrifying pictures...
Potential squatters would have to get past both the double locked exterior door and the remaining Yale lock on the door to the flat in question.
Lady Bracknell is more concerned about the theft of fixtures and fittings than the potential for unsavoury visitors. She contacted the landlord last week to forestall any possible repayment of the deposit.
Re the earplugs:perhaps Mary would be so kind as to answer a question? How does one guarantee that one will hear one's alarm clock in the morning?
Certainly. Earplugs don't block out *all* noise, just most of it. I have a loud alarm clock which sits right next to my bed. This one, to be precise. No mp3 tones, no electronic beeps... just a loud metallic mechanical continuous ringing.
I have to admit it was difficult not to smile when my noisiest neighbours complained about how they could hear it. That there was noise in my flat for ten seconds at 8am every weekday simply wracked me with guilt.
Mum says I have something called 'selective hearing'. She says this is a very useful ability or something - I wasn't really listening.
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