So – Monday night, I went to bed at the sensible time of about 11.30, listened to my iPod for a bit and when I turned it off at about 1am I discovered that in the intervening time my downstairs neighbours had decided to have a party. At 1am. On a weeknight. Right. I paced about angrily (as one would), impotently trying to work out how to cope with this situation until I heard the main front door go; I stuck my head out and asked the passing guest (who was rather fit, unfortunate considering I was in my dressing gown with damp hair) and got them to turn it down. By 2am all was quiet, though at 6am I was awoken by a mass exodus of bottles. Like they woke up at stupid O’clock with an urge to recycle.
Then it was Tuesday. Late evening Tuesday and evidently my back neighbours had decided to go away for the evening, leaving their flat in the control of a 14-16 year old, who naturally had a party. Much screaming and excitedness commenced in their flat and indeed in the shared hallway (the warm fuzzy feeling knowing that it was worse for my downstairs neighbours than me helped a little). I felt extremely trapped and despondent, spoke to Mum who told me to remember I’m moving out, and promptly moved my bed into my front room and closed the door, this helped but I was too distressed to sleep. The party continued to about… 7am.
Now it is Wednesday, and so far, no parties. However, the night is still relatively young (probably about mid-twenties and feeling it’s biological clock ticking). Ah wait – it’s probably my turn…