Pump up the volume

Today

When we were at last able to stay at the flat in Brighton, we were delighted to discover just how tranquil it is.

No funny noises (except when the newly fitted intruder alarm tried to go off), no floorboards talking.

We couldn't hear the neighbours moving about, so assume they couldn't hear us.

The bedroom's at the back overlooking a side street and there were hardly any cars.

We weren't even troubled by the seagulls!

In My Day

When we lived at the flat in Belmont in Brighton we had a very different experience. Our flat was on the top floor of a building that was opposite a British Rail working man's club.

External noises consisted of pigeons and seagulls on the sloping roof outside the bedroom window, the roar of traffic from Dyke Road and, on Friday and Saturdays nights, drunks issuing from the club.

What was even worse was the noise we ourselves made. We couldn't afford very thick carpet which probably made it hard for the lady in the flat beneath us. She was a single lady, called Miss Steele who worked in a clerical role at the Brighton & Hove police station.

Her recourse when we made a noise was to bang on the ceiling (we always assumed she used a broom handle, but it could have been a shotgun for all I know). This was particularly irritating when Lizzie was learning to walk as she fell over quite a bit. So we spent quite a lot of time taking Lizzie to parks so that she could run and jump freely without percussion accompaniment.

One night, at about 3.00 am, we were deeply asleep, when the doorbell rang furiously. Paul staggered to the door in his hastily donned dressing gown. There was Miss Steele, face screwed up with rage. "You're playing a guitar" she accused. Paul pointed out that he had been in bed asleep, that the room from which she'd thought she'd heard it was Lizzie's (I know she's talented, but she was only about a year old) and that, anyway, he didn't have a guitar.

We were furious, but decided with youthful arrogance, that she was probably going potty from being an old maid.

On the day we left the flat, she actually banged on the ceiling as we removed the carpet!

At the new flat there is someone on the ground floor who practises the piano occasionally, but I'd call that a civilised noise.