Above Ground Subterranean Blues

My friend Little Miss Strange tells me that she is currently living in a cave. I'm assuming that it has something to do with that horse punching incident from a few years ago - she's already had to leave the country once to try and evade that nag's vengeful mates. I'm also guessing that, despite her claims that she doesn't have a TV there (poor reception apparently - get cable, I say) it's pretty well appointed. Like the one in the photograph, in fact. I'd also guess that she has more considerate cave neighbours than I do.

Well, I say neighbours, but it is a bit more complicated than that. I'm at the end of a terrace, so I only have the one neighbour, which is a rented property. The last tenants did a runner back in September, since when it has been empty. Empty, that is, save for an army of decorators, tradesmen and assorted handymen and builders, who come and go at random, it seems. None of which is a problem, except when some of these itinerant individuals decide to hammer, drill and use assorted power tools at anti-social times. Usually in the evenings or before eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, when I'm trying to sleep in after a working week. We're not talking about minor noises caused by, say, putting up book shelves, but major disturbances.

I've already had cause to complain after an incident of loud hammering after nine o'clock on a Sunday evening. Whilst the hammering stopped that time, it seems that the entities next door have no concept of civilised behaviour, as since then the weekend disturbances have gotten worse. It all came to a head this past weekend when they started up some kind of noisy power tool in the back garden after eleven o'clock on Friday night. I was trying to relax in the bath at when I was rudely disturbed by this racket. My circumstances, naturally, precluded me immediately storming outside to complain. So, instead, I shouted out of the bathroom window. As my first, semi-polite, shout was ignored, I followed it up with 'Do you know what bloody time it is? Shut that fucking row up now, you evil bastards'. Which seemed to do the trick. But only until the next morning, when I was awoken before eight o'clock by more racket from outside. An entire day of various loud noises ensued. I felt I had no choice but to retaliate by playing my stereo at full volume for several hours, with the speakers up against the party wall. By six o'clock they seemed to get the message and fucked off. It's been quiet since.

I know that my tactics have limited effectiveness as my antagonists aren't actually living next door, just making noises there. But I don't really have many alternatives. Other than sticking dog shit through their letterbox, perhaps. The fact is that I don't know who actually owns the property now, whether they, personally, are turning up to make the noise, or whether it is their contractors doing it, possibly without the owners realising the hours at which their people are 'working'. All i know is that, generally speaking, those working next door completely ignore me. Today, for instance, when I was coming home from work at about six o'clock this evening, I saw someone coming out of next door as I approached my own front door. He completely blanked me and walked off when I tried to speak to him about the weekend incidents. Sadly, I suspect that I'm going to be forced to go down the route of reporting them as nuisance neighbours and seeing if I can get any action from the council. Certainly, if there's a repeat of the late night disturbances, I'll be inclined to report to the police as a disturbance of the peace and see if they take any action.

I'm hoping that when they finally finish working on the place, they'll try to rent out next door again. In which case, I'll do my damnedest to play death metal at full blast every time prospective tenants are shown around. Petty, but it's all I've got.