There should be a law against it.
Strike that, there should be a law FOR it.
Yesterday around lunchtime our neighbour started clumping and thumping about. This was followed swiftly by the unmistakable sound of an electric drill, followed by a long session with a hammer. From the length of time and frequency of hammering, I can only assume that he was building an ark (I may be exaggerating here).
Yesterday just before lunchtime we had decided not to go to the cinema, and have a lazy day around the house. We got dressed in our ‘lounging about clothes’, put the kettle on and started looking through the papers. Needless to say we were slightly hacked off when Noah started up next door. But hey, it wouldn’t be for long, would it?
Two hours later we were starting to re-assess our plans and were royally pissed off. An hour and a half beyond that we were just about to get changed and head out when, all of a sudden, the clouds broke, sunlight streamed through and Noah stopped hammering. The floods had obviously reached their peak and he had to set sail.
Now, at that point it was obvious that laws should be made. No hammering or any manner of loud D.I.Y. on a Sunday. Period.
But this morning, as we drove out of our street and saw the discarded wood and debris from yesterday’s ark building (but, strangely no evidence of “two of every animal”) I re-considered. “Let them build!” I declared (to myself, lest my wife decide to not stop at the station but continue to the sanatorium – which is, handily, just across the road).
Why this sudden change of heart? The killing of cats is why. I wanted to know what he’d been building (I didn’t really think there was an ark in his bedroom, don’t be so silly). I needed to know what he was building. Considering the fact that we’d, sort of, been involved in the creation of this 9th wonder of the world I was eager to see it, to marvel in it’s glory. It was my right. It should be law!
What was he building? A wardrobe? A walk-in closet? Was he putting up shelves (with a hammer?), or knocking a hole in the wall? Perhaps a mezzanine? Although with only 7ft ceilings I doubt it… Whatever he was up to I feel it is only right that I be able to find out, and I don’t see why I have to be civil, indulge in pleasantries, or generally butter up the neighbours just to find out what he spent 3 hours building.
The same law should also include a clause to allow anyone to visit their old houses to see what the new owners have done with the place (or in the case of our first flat to let me see the bedroom window which was installed the day before we moved out whilst I was down in Aylesbury). I’m particularly keen to see my Gran’s old house. Three floors, high ceilings, potentially wonderful. I wonder what it’s like now – I drive past it on my way to my Gran’s these days and marvel that it has a new roof, double-glazing and, no doubt, central heating (I often wonder if they kept the HUGE old side-board, carved from oak, which must’ve weighed almost a ton).
So, I urge you all to write to your MP, this law must come to pass.
Dammit, someone has beaten me to it.
