The neighbours have been shouting, arguing and slamming/ hammering on doors all morning – they did the same most of last night as well.. But I don’t care.

You know why I don’t care?

Well.. there’s a song about it *grin*

I’m quite happily listening to the Jack Johnson CD blaring out from the bedroom (we moved the cd player in there as it’s directly over the neighbours bedroom) I don’t know these tunes as well as I’d like so i’m only singing along intermittently. Since our objectionable neighbour started playing music til 5am again and banging doors and shouting, we’vre been getting up early and responding in kind.. Well, minus the banging and shouting.

We don’t have to consider next doors feelings now you see, they’ve moved out and someone else has moved in who is almost as bad as him downstairs, they seem to be getting along quite well in fact so I’m especially glad we’re moving in a months time.

That’s right, moving – I’m sooooo happy. I can rest easy in the knowledge that the chances of having someone stabbed on my doorstep or thugs coming round to kick in the front door are less than slim. We’re moving to Bushey.

I’m currently running around like a blue arsed fly attempting to sort out funding for this course – even though I’ve not been able to apply for it yet, the clearing lines don’t open until Monday so I’m just operating on faith on the recommendation of the lovely lass at Minerva house.

It’s not a huge loss if I can’t get on the course though. I figure that I can use this academic year to do permitted work under the disability back to work scheme and re-do my maths GCSE and then re-apply for the course next year. Obviously I’d rather start on my desired course immediately – but if I can’t I can rest easy in the knowledge that it’s for a good reason.
It may be that some other opportunity will arise that I’d have missed by taking on this course, or I could have a total relapse and have more student debt without the benefit of a qualification to justify it.. Either way, what will be will be.

I raised my still sleep sodden head to gaze at the clock only to see that it was 10 past 4 or 5, it took me three more songs (2 of which were skippy renditions of the Cyndi Lauper version of ‘I drove all night’) to manage to focus my bleary eyes enough to realise that yup, it was only 5.20am and I had in fact been asleep for a maximum of  2 hours.
This is when Stef turned over and asked me if this had been going on all night.

I’ve loaded the washing machine and I’m now sat patiently waiting for the music to stop so I can set it going, an hour of that shaking and rattling just may be enough to piss on his bonfire, sadly i doubt it because rather than being situated above his probably soon to be sleeping head, it’s over at the other side of the flat, the kitchen.

I think my next purchase is going to be taht rock polisher I’ve had my eye on and it’s going right by the front door so as I leave it on all night it can intrude upon HIS sleep for a change.

Petty? Yes, but this has been going on for months and the one time we didn’t just roll over and bitch quietly to ourselves and actually tried to get him to SHUT THE FUCK UP, round came the thugs to kick in my door and police were involved. 

Meh, it’s gone quiet now – I was all set to get the washer going but Stefs said to leave it, he wants to sleep and I can’t blame him. I just wish I could, I’m wound up and I’ve got that queasy feeling you get when your rest is interrupted, I know from experience that it’ll take a good few hours for me to be able to drop off again. So.. Guess I’ll go work my vampires for a bit and try to chill myself into calm.

All I’ll say is, this is some kind of torture, he’s making me dislike music that I’ve loved for years – I now can’t hear Dolly Parton without grinding my teeth in outrage (I know Jay, for you that’s a normal reaction) but If i start to have the same kneejerk reaction to soft rock I may well have to kill him, that’s half my karaoke repertoire and we all know how I love my karaoke!

Speaking of which, this is why we didn’t get to bed til about 2.30 this morning. We went for a drink with Dave to a nice little pub in Swinton, from there we ended up at the staff of life  – which hosts a cracking karaoke on a Saturday night. I got up and did a tune and was then berated by the KJ for not coming in earlier as it was too late for me to do another, i was a little disappointed but the atmosphere was so good in there it hardly mattered.
From there we headed back to Daves for a brew and watched an Allan Davies live stand up video – feckin’ hilarious, haven’t belly laughed like that in ages, then we wandered home and fell into bed, only to be woken now.

I think a nice calming game of Mah jongg and I’ll attempt sleepybo’s again – after all, I’m gonna be really pissed if I’m too tired for my driving lesson this evening.

The reason I find it so amusing is that if we had been responsible, his Dolly Parton CD would have been the first thing to go – there would have been many little pieces scattered across the floor beneath the wreck of what was once his stereo.

Sadly, the music playing all day upon his return is enough to attest to our innocence *sigh* What amazes me though is that he’s told our other neighbours that his stereo went missing so I’d love to know what he was playing that bloody CD on the day before he called the police round.. Anyone else smell a con job going on?
We actually saw him yesterday as we were walking up to the bottle bank, not a word was exchanged on either side and he couldn’t meet my eyes as I watched him walking towards and then past us.

But, no matter. He’s beneath notice, I should really stop wasting thought and blogspace on him. I don’t know why I let the whole situation get to me so much. I hate being here, and yet there’s no real reason why I should – apart from the music and ‘that night‘ we never have anything to do with him. The other neighbours all keep to themselves and apart from the space issue this is a relatively nice flat.
We’re close to all amenities and decent transport links, there are a couple of people I like that live not too far away and I’ve got karaoke close by on the rare occasions I fancy it.
Yet I still hate being here, I want to move so badly it hurts, I try not to think about it but, because I’m so stressed out at the uncertainty of how long I’m going to be trapped here, I can’t get to sleep (when I do I have nightmares) and I have no interest in keeping the place nice, I make suggestions and look at ways to improve it but my heart’s not in it at all – the worst part of it is, is that I know I don’t have any logical reason for feeling this way.

I just want out.

Aaaanyway, moving on..

I went to the library this morning to pick up some more Christopher Brookmyre books, I was quite impressed with his ‘All fun and games until somebody loses an eye‘ so much so that I can’t wait to crack on with the three others I checked out this morning, if only there was somewhere pleasant around here to go sit out with a book, seems a shame to waste this glorious weather on the net.

I’m to go back in 2 weeks and hopefully by then the system will be updated and working so she can offer me a little more than a couple of leaflets.

Meh, never mind eh?! On the plus side I was out of the house when the police came around. Apparantly wanker downstairs did have some things stolen (just not the stereo sadly *sniff* why couldn’t they have taken away the Dolly Parton cd?!) he got drunk as a skunk and called it in, no idea why he didn’t do it yesterday when he got back with his friend but it seems the theft has messed with his head slightly.

If he wasn’t such an inconsiderate moron that had called in a couple of thugs to kick my front door in I’d feel quite sorry for him – true pity as opposed to empathy of course, I like to think of myself as a ‘nice’ person but can’t fully empathise with that level of ‘pathetic’.
There is something seriously wrong with him, it’s like he’s on a constant hair trigger waiting to explode. I don’t know any real drug addicts or alcoholics so I couldn’t say if his behaviour is typical, but he should not be allowed out in public that’s for sure.

To quote our friendly PC “the guy’s a loon”

(and I don’t mean that as a slur on you canucks K, over here a loon is someone that’s really ‘not all there’ mentally)