In truth I’m amazed this situation hasn’t risen before now.
For the last 5 or 6 years we have had an assortment of university students renting the house next door to ours. Each time a new troupe has taken possession of the house keys in September we have braced ourselves for what we thought would be the inevitable shockwaves of electronically amplified youth noise erupting through the intervening wall of our semi.
However, for the last 5 or 6 years the gods of white noise have smiled upon us and we have had relative peace. In fact I only recall being disturbed twice: once by some Asian girls to remove a rogue wasp from their bedroom (which was far too sweet to be at all erotic) and once by a guy last year who literally knocked on my door in an abashed fashion to ask for his ball back which had been kicked over the fence and into our back-garden.
This year, however, we have plainly angered the gods. Or they have just developed a taste for eardrum shattering drum and bass.
A couple of lads and a girl moved in a couple of weeks ago and right from the start, even when playing their accursed music “quietly”, it felt like we had an underground tube station suddenly routed beneath our feet. It was, however, bearable. They kept the volume low-ish and seemed to adhere to the unwritten “good neighbours 11am watershed for unwanted noise” rule.
Last Saturday though they had their first party.
I have to admit they diluted our wrath by bringing us a bottle of wine in the afternoon as a pre-emptive apology and giving us their mobile number so that we could advise them if things got “too noisy”.
“Too noisy” proved to be woefully inadequate but I was impressed with their attempts towards goodwill and to establish a decent dialogue. As my wife pointed out: their parents ought to be proud of them; they might be decibel terrorists but they are at least well mannered.
The noise of the party was quite frankly unbelievable. If I had been playing my own music at top volume it still would have been drowned out by the power outage of their industrial strength sub-woofer. I’m sure the baby gallstone that was forming in my kidneys was cured overnight just from the vibrations that tore through the walls and stirred up tsunamis on the other side of the planet. My youngest had a mini-freakout at the noise but thankfully was able to succumb to sleep and slept through the worst of the cacophony. My wife and I fared less well. I think I made a request around 1am for the volume to be reduced and received a text apology and notification that the sub-woofer had now been switched off. This cut down on the vibrations but not really the volume of the music and the weird screams and shouts from the back-garden. I think unconsciousness took me around 2am. My wife reported that party events were still unfolding at 5am.
We’ve spent the last couple of days feeling rather grainy eyed as we’ve slowly clawed back the sleep we lost.
I had another text from the boys next door yesterday apologizing again and hoping they didn’t keep us awake too long. I admitted we were shocked by the noise and my children had disturbed sleep but we appreciated the fact that they were talking to us about it; I was sure we could build on this and become good neighbours. They apologized again and admitted they would probably have another party “at some point” but would have a think as to how they could achieve a good time for their guests without disturbing us. I resisted the urge to suggest they hold the party in the next street. Or even that they have a “mime party”. I daresay sarcasm and charades are not a good mix.
So there we are. An uneasy détente.
Not sure where we go from here or what possible noise abating solution they can come up with before their next sonic hurricane disrupts the neighbourhood’s airwaves. If they start eating a lot of eggs I’ll know they are lining the walls with the boxes (apparently they act as very effective sound-proofing). Hell, I may even start making a few more omelettes myself.
Given the vibrations last weekend I have a box full that are already cracked.
Why can't they have their wild parties in the university campus? I'm sure you'd be too ashamed to call the cops, so the only alternative is to release a hive of bees into their letterbox at midnight. The noise level would increase, but only briefly.
Gorilla Bananas: that's not a bad idea actually though I might go for wasps rather than bees... the latter have enough to contend with at the moment with Monsanto let alone beer addled students swatting at them with their English Lit text books.
You should suggest that they have their next party in the student union if it is going to be that loud as it is plainly too loud for a residential area, despite their attempts to be civil about it.
If they have any doubts, you will call out the Noise Abatement Officer to measure their party noise, which could land them a fine. You can already report them to the Student Liasion Officer so he/she can warn them not to have another one as it is too loud and remind them of whatever is in their contracts re consideration to neighbours. We take neighbour nuisance/any behaviour likely to bring university into disrepute very seriously and it can result in disciplinary measures if it happens again, so do alert them.
Steve, just put on your grand dad pants and pop over to join them! Or better yet, offer to play live for them with the band from your last post!
I'll just nip round with the machete...I need the practise...
I was an ace with the claw hammer but am trying to adapt to local culture.
Laura: very useful to have that little belter up my sleeve, thank you.
Amanda: ha! Now there's an idea! My hamfisted guitar playing ought to blow their sub-woofer to kingdom come!
The fly in the web: if it can take out speakers cables I'm happy.
Keep notes (oh, you have here) and then next time call the council noise people...it's the only way....
Students... No idea how to party these days.
In my day we would have had bad cake, and walls down, and public urination, and dead pigs heads... the lot.
Nota Bene: hit 'em with the full might of the council! I like your style!
Keith: what's bad cake? I have several visions in my head and I suspect none of them have any bearing on the truth.
Ask them if they've heard the word of the Saviour. Let your creative side go crazy - run up some pamphlets on your inkjet and then get all earnest like and hand them out to the occupants. Engage them in a one-sided conversation about your religion (I'm sure you'll come up with an apt name) for, oh, say.... an hour? That should be long enough to do it.
Out of my depth here
Being Me: I reckon I could get half the street to sign up The Church of Deafened Latter Day Saints... I may even ask for charitable donations. Just to add to the verisimilitude.
John: a dirth of immediate neighbours? Care to do a house-swap?
oh and Fireworks from your teeth. Had forgotten that one.
Bad cake, you know, cake with 'stuff' in it.
And buttercream icing.
Keith: doesn't all cake have stuff in it? ;-)
Sure, all cakes have stuff in them, but not "stuff".
Keith: ah. You mean "stuff" not stuff. Now I understand.
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