Monday 20 May 2013

The Jacuzzi
FRENZY by Mark King
ISBN 9781846248771

We have lived in our present home for two years and nine months. The council district of Broadland was recently stated in the national press to be the best place to live in the U.K when set against a whole set of measures, and I have to say that I must agree with them.

Of course there are always other places you wish you could be at any given moment especially when the weather is crap which it has been here for the last few days, but generally I feel lucky to live in a nice area which I consider to be as near to heaven on earth as you can get.

But, and there is always a but, there are things which can upset this image of perfection. It's like living somewhere tropical that on a good day will take your heart away, but on a bad day will be hit by a hurricane which can take your life away.

Well for me it's not quite a hurricane that gets my pulse flying, but a bloody noisy Jacuzzi. Last summer our neighbours purchased an outside jacuzzi for their back garden which happens to back onto ours, and is only metres away from our bedroom window. Now we've never had any argument with them, and they are generally nice intelligent people until that is when the alcohol starts to flow, and the whirl of jacuzzi bubbles at night becomes to much of a lure for them to resist.

As I write this I am tired, and when I'm tired I get grouchy, and moody, and the reason I'm like this is because of a bloody noisy jacuzzi, and the even more loud, and drunk, people using it on Saturday night. The engine was whirling, the bubbles where bubbling, and above this noise level was a group of people who had to out-shout each other to be heard. It started about 8pm and was still going after 11pm.

Now I like a good party and generally I'm relaxed about other people enjoying themselves, but last Saturday night took the piss. See I told you I was grouchy.

At the end of the day this is a minor irritant and people have to put up with a lot more noise than this. One thing I remember about New York City when I last visited is how noisy it was at night because the dustbin men have to empty the bins every evening, and boy o boy does a dust cart make a racket.

I also read a good article in the daily telegraph by Ruth Sherlock on Saturday reporting from Damascus. It explained how people still went to pray in the Sayyida Zainab mosque even though they have to put up with shells exploding above their heads, and bullets whizzing by.

And there are many others out there in this big wide world that have to put up with more than just the annoyance of a jacuzzi; so as we British are supposed to do I will get over my grouchy spell, my mood should improve with the weather, and next time the jucuzzi is bubbling I might see if I could do what they do in Latin America, and join in with the party.



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