I have never really had issues with any of my neighbours. Old flatmates yeah, but neighbours no. One of the sad and yet also sometimes quite nice things about London is that on the whole you never speak to your neighbours. Sad, they could be someone amazing, nice as they could be a murderer or you are like me and just like to go home and not have the possibility of being disturbed, I mean really would you want to be part of a real life ‘Friends’, what do you mean yes?
So this brings me to relations with my neighbours, for the first 3 months I was here bar the baby crying upstairs I never really had any issues with neighbours. I had parties, no one cared, my roof terrace remained unused and free, no one cared, I ran out of sugar, no one cared. It was fine. Then they finished the flat beneath me and it all changed. Remember when you read this I do not dislike the people downstairs.
I love a good natter on the phone, I love a good natter when I am not on the phone, but I like to talk and walk, I feel that way I am making the most of my time on the phone by doing things you know hanging out the washing, making cups of tea and the like. I was doing this one Sunday in July at around 8.30pm when there was a knock on the door. After getting dressed (yes people, if I am on the phone to you… I might be in my pants) and seeing who it was, I was greeted by him downstairs. Can I just mention these people have very loud sex, and I am not sure it’s the same women all the time though he doesn’t look like a Casanova should! Remember I do not dislike the people downstairs. “Can you stop walking about it’s like a herd of elephants above our heads and we are trying to sleep?” I smiled apologetically, while thinking what the hell, and telling him it was most peculiar as the previous neighbours had never complained… probably because there never has been any. He got a bit arsey but eventually buggered off.
Two days later and he pops up to see if he can have a bottle opener, nice as you like. Sorry that’s bloody weird. Couple of days later I think oh I could do with an iron as mines broken, I pop downstairs hear the TV knock and knock, no fucking reply, rude! I didn’t smile at him when we met in the hallway three days later.
You may have seen I mentioned the neighbours with the crying baby. The neighbours who since having a child in January have become so anal about the communal corridors being potential trip hazards they move them to the end of my corridor, the neighbours who have become so anal about locking the front door even though the bottom lock is broken (that was me but shush) they lock it when he finishes work at 1am. This has lead to a night in a hotel as I was locked out after clubbing one night, and awaking downstairs neighbour at 3am another night after clubbing!
I would normally overlook these small issues. That is if it wasn’t for the fact they live above me and are so anal they leave the bath to overflow regularly leaving my bathroom with an extra shower mid way in the ceiling! However after Saturday night/Sunday morning I have declared war. This weekend I arranged to meet the cousin I have never met before Graham. He is a cartoonist, is actually my Dad’s cousin and also happens to be a big old gay too! We met, we drank, we went clubbing in Heaven (seriously me in Heaven is so wrong, but felt so right) we left late. I normally start asking Mr B to take me home at 2am and he does, this time he was asking me at 3am, 4am and 5am. We get back at 6.15am and guess what the door is bottom locked again. I have left a very blatant note by it saying ‘people have been locked out all night before’ right next to the lock. (I may include a picture beneath actually) So we buzzed them, and buzzed them and even though he popped his head out he wouldn’t come down. So Mr B starts buzzing the guys below… he comes out and says ‘do you know what you are a neighbour from hell’.