Just saying.
I was woken at 3.15 a.m. this morning by the sound of someone repeatedly moving crates of bottles (well, that's what it sounded like) in their back yard. Clink. Thump. Bang. Clink. Rattle. Clink. For at least five minutes, in a systematic way, loud enough and for long enough to make sure the neighbours were fully awake. Silly questions like "WTF? Why?" came to mind.
The only lights on were at that house (the one where Millie was exposed to some choice language not long ago) across and up from the back of my house - the back being where I choose to sleep, instead of in my beloved white attic at the front, because it's quieter there than facing the street, where shouting and roaring happens at any time throughout the night as drink-fuelled students roll home, their volume levels set to Raucous. Not that I'm moaning about that either, you understand.
After a while the mysterious bottle-bank racket stopped, but I was beyond sleep by now, so I got up and made a cup of tea. I sat at the kitchen table and read for a while, gradually joined by bemused little creatures who know it isn't really getting-up time, but hope that it might be breakfast or catflap-unlocking time, and eventually went back to bed at 7 for an hour. (I would tell you what highly entertaining book I was reading, but it's someone's Christmas present, and I don't want to spoil the surprise. I can read books so carefully that they remain pristine, so long as I can stop cats from clambering over them to get onto my knee.)
The bemused little creatures came with me, but two of them couldn't sleep either, and leap-frogged enthusiastically over and onto my head until it was time for us all to get up for the second time. I'm seriously underslept today. But I shan't moan. A Zen-like calm acceptance suffuses my very being.
Yesterday my phone had worked only intermittently. Today it doesn't work at all. Virgin Media, whose services have been decidedly poor for most of October, and whose accessibility to customers is even poorer, tell me that a technician will call out next Thursday. It's only Saturday today.
I'm not complaining though. I am not ranting. I am not encouraging my blood pressure or my voice to rise further. I am breathing deeply, trying not to clench my jaw, or think murderous thoughts. I am staying caaaaaalm.
But I am plotting my escape, to somewhere that is definitely not a university town, and where sorting the recycling might be seen as a daytime occupation. Efficient telephony, however, may be a wish too far. The little creatures and I are off for an early night now, to try to cram a few hours of sleep before the Hallowe'en parties rev up.
9 comments:
Well. I feel a leeeetle princessy with all the internal complaining I've been doing about Having To Do The Laundry today. Hmm... perspective. It's all about perspective. Enjoy your escape!
Goodness, that's a very early night. Hope it is/was a peaceful one!
You're being remarkably noble !Still , at the moment you're presumably not being cold-called about changing electricity suppliers or insurance companies .
Be warned , by the way .There is just one small snag about moving to the country ....the deep silence keeps you awake . It's rather spooky .
We were woken at 6.15, again, the other morning...by our neighbour's rabbit banging his food dish against the` hutch. He hasn't got the hang of the time difference yet. (We've had the windows open at night as it's not really cold yet.)
I haven't managed to sleep in a single time during the half term holiday. Like you, I'm not complaining...
Oh, how annoying. Hope things are quieter on that front tonight! xxoo
Making Space: I rarely complain internally; I just let it all out! And doing the laundry isn't that bad nowadays - no boys' socks or rugby kit!
Isabelle: Don't be fooled by the time on the post; Blogger sticks to the time that you start a post, not when you actually finish and post it - in this case after hordes of little witches, demons, and blood-spattered monsters came to the door for their trick-or-treat sweets! But it was an early enough night, and a peaceful one, thanks to earplugs, thanks.
S & S: I get the cold calling and automated calls too; it took me a long time to find out that if you listen to the latter right through to the end instead of slamming the phone down, you often get a number to press to remove yourself from the calling list - very useful tip, that!
Rattling On: How funny! I once stayed in a friend's country cottage, sleeping soundly in black silence, until woken in shock by a sheep baaa-ing incredibly loudly behind the house - at 4 a.m.!
Marie: Earplugs sometimes do the trick, but they interfere with my preferred method of dropping off - listening to the BBC...
I don't believe in keeping it all in either, not healthy! But Zen-like is totally beyond me I'm afraid.
On a totally practical level, have you considered secondary double glazing, just in the rooms in which you want to sleep? It's not that expensive, and I know from experience that it can make a huge difference to what you hear from outside - I once lived in a bungalow which was side on to a main road, and would regularly miss what was being said on the telly if a lorry passed. We had secondary glazing fitted, just to the road side windows, and it made a huge difference.
Sounds horrid that. As I was reading your post I was thinking thank goodness she's decided to move. I had no idea it was that bad. Lovely image of your furries being supportive and coming out of their slumbers to see what the **** was going on. Go find your new home eh!
Rachel -
This is my first forage through your blog. Found you through Bee Drunken!
I've gotta say, you cracked me up with reading books you're going to give as presents. I have done the same thing, guiltily, in secret.
8-)
Love your furry critters, they're adorable! I've got two of the feline variety meself. Aren't they great? Life wouldn't be the same without them.
Cheers,
M
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