September 12th, 2003


I hear you...

Early start to the day of door banging. It's the man upstairs. The front door is open again. It seems my closing technique needs work on it - it sounds like it has shut but may be it actually hasn't. Well, I still the think the fixture could be improved, but sometimes you just need to admit fault over trying to win the argument. I didn't ask about the range of protection devices he has upstairs and he has no desire to come downstairs to and see "a chalk outline where I should be."
It's actually the longest conversation I've had with him in the last year since I moved in.
I have been a bit disappointed by his level of noise. The previous tenants had put a noise order on him and I was expecting worse, but aside from the creakiness of the floor and the movement of furniture at strange hours, there's nothing to comment on. And what do people under others complain of but this. It's more the man downstairs: silent the entire week, then come Saturday afternoon at about 5pm, floorshaking bass. It only lasts a couple of hours, but it is difficult to avoid. Well, I get to be reminded of some favourite soul hits of the 80's anyway.
So, note to self, which I had made some months already, close the bleedin' front door properly.
And so back to bed.
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