Snail Trail

Plotters. Blotters. Rotters. No, otters! At London Zoo.

A great way to spend a Saturday. Even if we were trespassing.

My neighbour knocked on my door last night with a box of chocolates to apologise for playing music so loud the night before! I have a bit of faith in human nature again. Yay!

I now hate my neighbours downstairs.
They were playing very loud music at 4am until 6am, which shook my bed and which woke me despite me wearing earplugs. On a school night, people!

1) Whose-ever idea was it to convert these old houses into flats so badly/cheaply that they didn’t consider soundproofing needs shooting up against a nice local wall so we can all watch them suffer. Balls exploded first, please.
2) Hasn’t my neighbour heard of headphones??? Or volume control? Or not getting so high/drunk that you notice you’re being an inconsiderate arsehole?

At 6am I finally flipped and started jumping on the floor violently.
I gave myself carpet burns on my heels.
Which then hurt as I lay trying to be as quiet as possible in bed in the hope the neighbour wouldn’t storm upstairs and kill me.

I originally was tempted by the idea of playing my drum kit to get back at aforementioned neighbour but decided
a) that wasn’t fair on the neighbour upstairs who probably didn’t hear this racket as much as I did and thus I’d look like the bad guy
b) who was probably already woken up by me banging on my floor like a psychopath (which is, oddly, very much how I felt. Thankfully guns and weapons are frowned upon here, otherwise I may well have done something a tad rash in my red mist).
c) there’s enough bad neighbours in the world, I really shouldn’t add to the mix and make it worse if I can possibly help it.

It bothers me because now I’m not only feeling guilty for being such a party pooper, but feeling stupid for feeling like a party pooper when it wasn’t me who was being inconsiderate and had no regard for anyone else.
I’m also afraid of retribution tonight and of it kicking off again, possibly this time they will kick my front door down if I dare suggest it’s too loud.

I’m also annoyed that I left it so late saying hello to them when they moved in. Perhaps if we’d met sooner I could have explained the lack of privacy in these flats, and maybe they’d have taken note. Although there is always the possibility they are relatives of the Scottish bastard who used to live down there who regularly screamed “CUNT!” through the ceiling up at me if I dared to suggest his music was too loud at 4am.

There is also a possibility that even if I HAD gone down there in the freezing cold at 4am to ask politely if they’d mind awfully turning their music down a tad that they i) wouldn’t have answered the door anyway - I know I wouldn’t answer the door at 4am to anyone! ii) would have been too drunk to care iii) would have been high as a kite and gone into a violent rage and smashed my pretty face into smithereens, and then who would have fed my bunny?

Of course once I’d gone ape shit at the flooring I couldn’t sleep anyway, as I knew I had to be up in an hour and my heart was pounding through my chest and skull with adrenalin and rage.

I fucking hate humans.

And then to top off a night of not sleeping, as I walked angrily to work I saw the body of a fox on a rubbish pile, where someone had obviously killed it, possibly with their car, and they’d just thrown it into a pile of bags by some bins at the side of the road.
And that made me terribly sad.
It was probably the fox who comes into my garden regularly.

I hate humans.

Bird in disguise (via Kate Doodles)