Can't quite remember the exact sequence and details, but methinks the last straw was couple of Friday nights ago. Had been missing my chats with S, somehow ended up at the lower end of a cask of Port. Wandered next door to say hello .. again. Can't remember the exact conversation, this time, but happily went to bed at about 1am, toddled off to work at 5.30am on the Saturday, came home at 4.30pm.
Greta was standing at the corner of his annexe, arms akimbo, looking like Thor had just hit his thumbnail with the hammer. Half a dozen Valkeries hovering over his stocky shoulders.
"Oh", say I, all innocent, "What's up?"
"You!" he thunders. "Don't want to talk to you, don't want you near me!" With that, he turns and disappears into his annexe. Would have been a rather impressive and dramatic exit - if he was wearing a swirl from a dark wool, red lined, hooded cape.
Things went a bit quiet after that. Went off to work on Sunday and Monday. Was at the Laundry on the Tuesday waiting for the machine to do its thing when noticed the Park Manager wandering up and down the roadway talking on his mobile phone. Wanted to speak to him, so made sure that he saw me, then hung about until he'd finished. He eventually completed whatever conversation he was on, then came across.
"Gidday," say I, "has grumbleguts from the van next to me said anything yet?"
"Yep," says he, and was given a severe "talking to". He doesn't like you bothering him, your music - and Inebriation is a big No-No.
So, am still here .. but it's all socks and sneak time in the van. Not a sound shall emerge until I can figure out how to get out of here. And yes, of the quiet and stilly night; can hear every creak, sniff and snuffle from next door so don't blame him, really - even though I DID try to keep every sound down to a dull roar. Can't quite think what the music was that caused the upset. Mostly play Bach, Brahms and Mozart .. but it might have been the Rachmaninov.
Am running silent .. but that, in a way, is a bonus. Everything, now, is on Sony headphones and have discovered that I much prefer the full, rich bass and trebles of the digital TV instead of the tiny, tinpot speakers built in to the set .. heh.
Which reminds me. Have just found this
which seems vaguely appropriate.
[and yes, Hughes, will give much credit, though there's no point in coming at me with a cricket bat - used to be a wicket-keeper before those prissy helmets; skull of pre-stressed concrete .. heh. If the reader has yet to discover Scrag Ends, please go and have a squizz.]
2 comments:
I'd pay to hear your playlist. grumbleguts has not one brain cell of taste in music. And Rachmaninoff is merely excellent, your others are gods.
Buy headphones...and give them to grumbleguts.
[did I just repeat myself?]
Am, methinks, being a bit harsh on GG, greensmile. The first night that casa caravan went completely silent (he won't even hear me boil the kettle, these days) I listened to his music. Very soft, mind you, sort of 'underground rock' - but actually enjoyed it. Slipped a note under his annexe flap telling him so, but haven't had any feedback.
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