NEIGHBOURS

We were introduced to the young couple who were to rent the flat next door. We presumed they were a young married couple – how wrong can you be? 

Within days, the vulgar (very vulgar) rap music was blaring out, despite polite requests to turn it down a bit.  The chap starting beating up the young lady and she responded by shouting and screaming out of the window – it got so bad at one point that the regulars from the pub opposite all turned out with their drinks to watch and listen.  Police were called by a passer-by and peace was restored for a while. 

Over the months, for no apparent reason, they began to taunt us badly, playing really loud music at all hours of the day and night, kicking the walls to our apartment, filling their apartment with many young men who were obviously the worse for wear on drinks and drugs.  This culminated with a warning from the local council and finally the appearance of police, to find a drugged up young man, who was visiting the neighbours, who had banged his head so hard on the wall that he left blood all over the walkway. 

The flats had a staircase at each end of the row and obviously the police chose the staircase at the opposite end to which the young man ran, but another passer-by put them on the right track.  He was promptly seated in a patrol car and his mother was sent for.  She called up to our balcony and thanked me for calling the police – it wasn’t me, but I’m thankful to whoever it was.

One morning I went to put my washing on the line I had bought to share with the previous neighbours, one of those which pulls out and clips on another wall.  I pulled the line across to the neighbouring apartment only to discover that the hooks had been hammered right into the wall, making it impossible to use.  What lovely people.  The line had previously been twisted and knotted several times and I had grown used to untangling it before I could put out my washing to dry but I thought this final action was really mean.

CHRISTMAS

Our last Christmas in the flat was horrendous.  Very early on Christmas morning I woke to see bright lights flashing in the car park at the rear of the apartments.  I looked out to see a car ablaze, right next to a car belonging to elderly people who lived in the flats.  I telephoned the fire brigade and they eventually put out the flames, but both cars were totally destroyed.  The police told us that two cars had been stolen that night, one had been dumped in our car park, and set alight, the other was still missing. 

Still very early in the morning, I decided to have a cigarette on the front balcony before trying to get back to sleep.  I telephoned the fire brigade again – on redial – telling them I had found the other car – it was also ablaze, halfway up the hill behind the pub.

Over the Christmas holiday, in the parade of shops that ran under the apartments, the chip shop had the door kicked in, the Betting Office was broken into, the Co-operative store had the window broken and so it went on.  For about a year, loads of groups of young people had started to congregate around the local Co-op store and ask people to buy drinks and cigarettes for them.  Their language was dreadful, especially the girls, and it was getting impossible to sit out on the balcony for fear something might be thrown.  Chips were strewn everywhere and we eventually had rats around the flats.  The maintenance charges rose but nothing got done.  We had to get out.

Luckily, on New Year’s Eve, the time I was really dreading, someone again smashed a window in one of the shops and the police arrived in force at around 9pm and stayed for most of the night, parking outside the shops.  Peace at last. 

We decided to try once again to get on with our neighbours and I told them that I would be working at 5am the next day and, although we had no problems if they were having a party, could they please ask their friends to leave quietly in the early hours.  Their guests left, between 2am and 4am, slamming the neighbours’ door, banging and kicking our door, swearing loudly, throwing cans and things all over the place and finally gave us a recital on a set of saucepans! 

I was glad to get to work!  I used to have a table at various flea-markets and New Year’s Day was usually busy as people had got ‘cabin fever’ from being indoors over the holidays.  That day proved no exception, even though I was yawning all day.  I had an ‘Everything Must Go – Emigrating’ sale and did quite well.  The rest of our ‘collectables’ we eventually brought to France.