Love Thy Neighbour

I live in a flat.

It’s a small flat and needs quite a bit of work doing to it but its mine and I happen to like it.  I am sandwiched between two other flats whose occupants are quiet and respectful of those around them – like I am.


Houses today seem to be built with walls that are the thickness of tissue paper and houses built many moons ago, like those in my road, may have walls that are the thickness of cardboard, so there is some muting of sounds, but not that much.

The woman in the flat next door has her lounge on the other side of my bedroom, so of course when her TV is on, I get to share her love of soap operas echoing around the room AT TWO IN THE MORNING (why is it always at that time?) and I also have the privilege of listening to her landline telephone messages, which is nice, and as a return favour I write them down – just in case she has missed anything important.

The above I can cope with, just, but why oh why must she conduct her sex life in her lounge at that time of the night when I am asleep and wake me up?  What’s wrong with the sodding bedroom?  Does Coronation Street or Eastenders really make you want to get down and dirty with your boyfriend?

Apparently yes, because that’s where they perform and it certainly is a performance.  She grunts more than any tennis player that has played at Wimbledon.  She is also considerate enough to let me know when her train is arriving and enthusiastically works her way up to the doors opening and passengers alighting with a noise reminiscent of old engine whistles.  (I swear she is screaming choo choo!).

Meanwhile, her B.F. must have tea bags the size of a bulls because was that really what I heard slapping about last time?  Luckily, that is as much as you’ll get from him, and why would he need to do anything else when she is making more than enough noise for the both of them!  I also hope that he doesn’t strut his stuff afterwards thinking that he is a fantastic lover by her reactions, because news flash honey, she has been like that with ALL of her boyfriends since I have lived next door to her.

I now have a set of score cards and hold up what I think is an appropriate marking afterwards and I also have a cigarette and lighter at the ready because quite frankly, I’m bloody exhausted!

Now, I know what you lot are thinking; “You’re just jealous!”  I hear you cry.  “Lonely old hag!”  Scream the news headlines.  Not at all, far from it.  Good luck to her and all who sail in her, I am happy that she has hobbies.  I just don’t want to share them that’s all!