Let me assure you that my intention this evening was not to write a blog. I had no concrete plans for tonight but nevertheless, the idea of staying in and reading whilst listening to some classic funk always sounds good. Or rather, it would sound good if you didn’t have the same people living upstairs that I did. Now, more often than not I am a patient person (okay I can’t quite plead to have the patience of a saint, but I don’t particularly take after the Incredible Hulk). There are some people and things that get on my nerves; people who continue to claim that Lady Gaga is an inspiration for example, or people who try and make you do things you really don’t want to do, like dance in public, and claim that not doing so would somehow brandish you a “spoil sport.” The people who do that are generally recognised as being “the life and soul of the party” when we all know that that is just a polite way of saying “loud, obnoxious, unsavoury, busy-body cretin.” There, I said it.
Enough of my mental deviation however. I live on the third floor of four in my accommodation block, which is a reasonable position because I’d hate the thought of living on the bottom floor. It’s a happy medium. The only problem however is my overhead neighbours. The walls at my accommodation granted are paper-thin - I can hear my flatmates flick switches as well as open and close drawers, and that’s fine. Now, that’s not obtrusive and to be honest, at a push, it’s the very least you’d expect if you lived in the next room wherever you were. I do have a problem however when the ceilings are so thin that you can hear the people above you literally slamming doors shut. I also have a problem with the fact that I can audibly hear all manner of toilet-based japery; toilet lid and seat noises, flush mechanisms and, the sound that haunts me in my sleep, the sound of, and there’s really no other way to say it, the sound of someone weeing reverberating around your room at all manner of day and night. Now of course, I can’t expect them to not do these things, but a little more respect for us little ones below them wouldn’t go amiss.
At the moment, there is all manner of terrible pop music being blasted through the ceiling as people urinate and slam doors to their hearts content. At my accommodation we have an eleven o’clock cap on excess noise. Now I agree, this is perhaps a bit Victorian, especially on a Friday night, but at the end of the day, Leeds City Centre is twenty minutes away on a bus and surely that’s better than sitting around a student kitchen surrounded by dishes if you want some excitement on a Friday night. Me, I want no excitement. I want to stay in, be a nerd and read. Not even for my course believe it or not, but to read for pleasure.
And that’s where I come full circle. Not ten minutes ago, I shifted my pillows up and reached for my reading, fully intending a good forty-five minutes. And now here I am, sat slouched at my computer screen and wincing at someone actually moving furniture about above me and shouting at no one out of the window. Some of you may be shouting for me to wear ear plugs or something, but we all know that’s not the point. Christ, I sound like a teacher.
Anyway, got to go - I’ve just heard the toilet lid open.
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