I live in a lovely little room in central Bristol; I've been here for about twelve and a half years - having moved in here in January 2000 - it's handy to town, all the shops, the bus station and Temple Meads railway station. My room looks out over the beautiful Brandon Hill Park - a magnet for tourists in the summer - and I am lucky to have many friendly neighbours living the length of the street. I've been a fully paid up member of BHRA (Brandon Hill Residents Association) for the past three years or so and, being a Bristolian, I consider myself to be extremely lucky to be living here. The history of this city fascinates me, and I am building a collection of books on the subject.
So why, do you ask, is this post titled 'A Postcard From Cacophony'?
Well, the problem is that I live in a shared house - or an HMO, as my fellow BHRA members refer to it (House of Multiple Occupation) - and, unfortunately, my room is currently sandwiched between an alcoholic below, and a young chap above.
The aforementioned alcoholic frequently comes in in the middle of the middle of the night - slamming his door repeatedly and playing his records very loud. This often wakes everyone in the house and, rather unsurprisingly, makes him very unpopular!
The young chap who recently moved in above my room has one recording - and one recording only - which he plays over and over. It's the sort of thing that you'll quite often hear being blasted from boy racers as they pootle about in their motorcars. The bass is very loud and intrusive, there is no tune, and there is an emotionally disturbed robot on drums.
Last night I had boy racer 'music' coming through my ceiling, and a truly sorry mixture of what I can only call 'total & utter shite' coming up through my floor at the same time. After I banged on my floor the alcoholic came up and knocked my door, asking why I was banging on his ceiling. When I pointed out that it was because his stereo was so loud I had hoped that he would take the hint!
Not only did he not turn it down he INCREASED the volume and played many of the same stuff over & over & over again. This went on into the small hours.
I'm a musician myself, and I am sure that there is a law against USING MUSIC AS A WEAPON.
I'm sure that it must be awful for the poor chap to be so terribly afflicted with alcoholism, but I do wish that he would find a nice hole in the ground to crawl into and leave me alone. I don't like having to bang on his ceiling, but I won't be dictated to by a total dickhead. It's as simple as that.
The young chap upstairs is also a bit of a lost cause. Myself & Martin (an old friend of mine who works at the theatre) have spent the entire duration of the young chap's tenancy cleaning up after him and, when I pointed out to him where the dustpan & brush and the broom were located, he got very upset, swore at me, and then threatened me with physical violence!! The funniest part of this was that he threatened me and behaved badly while Martin was present - so I have a witness!
It's Saturday, the 29th of September, 2012 as I write this so, if anything should befall me between writing this and sometime in the near future, you can rest assured that my assailant would have been either Tristan (I don't know his surname) from upstairs, or Adam Martin, the poor, deranged alcoholic from downstairs - or maybe even both!
Ironically, what with my constant backpain and the sometimes unending duration of the NOISE POLLUTION, it is I who is having murderous thoughts! I do not, however, want to have to go through the unpleasant, sticky and complicated business of killing these assholes myself; it would result in the loss of my freedom, and I wouldn't be able to live in this wonderful neighbourhood anymore.
Ooooh! It's just gone quiet!
How lovely!
