The Soothing Sounds of Sunday Plus Some Honking.

It's been a bit of a noisy Sunday so far, but not bad noisy (like the infamous doof, doof battles of yore). The local Rotary truck show is on this weekend, so the township is full of painted rigs and dressed-up utes, and after my much treasured Sunday morning sleep in, while I was having my lazy Sunday morning read with the cats piled on my lap, the annual Sunday morning truck convey went past. Horns were enthusiastically honked and blasted, and many great vehicles rumbled by and shook the earth. But it was soon enough over, and the show does raise a lot of money for good causes.

Later, next door launched into a lunch time barbecue with friends, kids and dogs, and there was much rambunctious scrambling for sausages and shouts about their deliciousness, calls for mummy or daddy to fix this or that, exuberant splashing about in the inflatable pool and the hosing down of dogs accompanied by squeals of joy and barks of approval - the normal, family business, background sounds you'd expect on a hot Australian Sunday, boisterous, but not at all bothersome. I've been writing well through most of it, only occasionally pulled from my concentration by the naughty chuckle of a child about to do something that is definitely a no-no or kiddie squabbles about who gets the wield the watery power of the mighty garden hose.

In between the trucks and the barbie, the Chook (henceforth referred to as the Occasional Chook, unless she moves back in, of course) came to visit, and volubly made her presence known as per usual. She's still here many hours later, prevented from returning to her new digs by the barbecue. Although constantly grumbling, she's making the best of it and is presently sunning herself on the patio with the cats. Things are settling down next door now, so she'll probably scoot off soon, once the dog numbers go down.

As for me, I'll send off a few emails, and then I'll be getting back to the loveliest of all Sunday sounds (although the clip clop of horse hooves is a very close second), namely that of my keyboard finishing up a new story. It's big. It's SF. It's spacey. It has aliens. But no humans. I'm a bit excited by it :)

Of course...

...at times like these, one should caste one's mind back to the days when the "old" people in the house next door continually asked me and my sister to close our windows during our opposite-tastes-in-music showdowns, and to recall one's own youthful incomprehension when the police showed up at the door during parties in response to complaints from the neighbours, and to remember the lady downstairs who, on a weekday night when I had a few friends around for a post sports training get-together, phoned me to angrily enquire whether I thought our building was Dyrehavsbakken .

And so it turns, the squeaky wheel of life.

Art versus Art

Apparently, part of my new noise problem, as told to me with an air of 'whats wrong with you' last night when I went next door at 23.45 and suggested that it was a tad unreasonable to be doof doofing at that time and that they might like to show some consideration and turn down the racket, is that 'the kids are training'.
Mystery solved. Young musicians with amps and double bass guitars burning with a bright desire to be superstars practicing late into the night have turned the house next door into their semi-regular studio. I suspect they've been booted out of their own homes, guitars in hand, and have been offered a creative asylum to nurture their talents and so now they're my problem. Neat. And so in future days, when during interviews they talk about this stage of their career, I'll have a part in their tale as the nameless nutty neighbour who *laugh, laugh* was always knocking on the door and complaining. No-one will realise that the poor sod of a neighbour in question was also trying to get in some 'training' and be creative.

Anyway, the Arts smackdown in on. Youthful, Self-Centered Musicians versus Crusty Old Writer. They've got the numbers and the bass. I write a mean email.

You can't stop the doof doof

It's actually been pretty quiet here over the past 2 weeks, which was wonderfully unexpected, and this morning was lovely, but right now, I'm well into my third hour of unneighbourly doof doof and can no longer work with it. So I'm admitting defeat, shutting up shop and heading off for a walk. Drats! I wanted to finish a revision - I'm cutting story from an indulgent 9000 words down to a lean and mean and more to the point 6000 words (I only have 392 more words to go) - so the story could sit a while before I submit it on Sunday.

Hopefully the doof doof will be over by the time I get back.

Ah well, "The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft agley."

They're baaaack

Oh yeah, my old pals the Doofhead neighbours are back from whatever bogan planet they've been visiting for the last 7-8 months. Each night this week, they've indulged in their favourite pastime, the it's-all-quiet-when-she-gets-home-to-lure-her-into-a-false-sense-of-security-then-twenty-minutes-later-we-hit-her-with-the-choppy-low-frequency-woofy-bass game. It's not as bad as last time, but building up, I think.

So, fun days ahead :(

In better news, my Spirit story (as in Mars rover) suddenly came together on the train today. It'll only be a littlie, but hopefully a goody.

Here we go again?

I might have to dig out and dust off the Doof Doof Diary. *sigh*

Me thinks the kiddies next door are testing the waters once more with their mighty sub-woofers. Great. Just in time for my AJWWB.

Plan Busters

A whole Sunday without commitments stretched before me, so I had BIG writerly plans for today, and it all started out well enough, but unfortunately the kiddies next door decided this afternoon to share their love of all things rappy and bassy with the rest of the world. They're not playing as loudly or deeply as they used to, and they have been far more considerate since the Great Doof Doof War of 2010, so it was in with the earplugs and out with the ironing board while downloading more books onto my iPod to listen to at the Arvo Job, then washing the kitchen floor. One might as well get something done.

I think *tentatively removes ear plugs* that they've stopped now, so I shall return to my keyboard. I'd like to look over a couple of rejected stories and submit them ere the sun sets.

Invasion Alert

I think my neighbours have been replaced by pod people.

Quiet pod people.

Not all alien invasions are bad...

Seize the moment

A blessed quiet and stillness has descended. Quick rescheduling of rescheduled day initiated - write now, clean later.
Heading for other keyboard now!

Another doof doof day in Paradise

My plan was to get up, write for a few hours, then do the domestic stuff, then send out a few stories before going to the movies tonight. Unfortunately, my neighbour's plan was to get up and play hours of bass-favouring music.

Aah, the peace and quiet of country living. This matter is now edging closer towards a Category 1, continually-interfering-with-my-writing status.

So, I guess I'll do the washing (started) and the shopping first, and hope that I can get in a few hours this afternoon.

Doof, doof.

Not happy.

This morning's writing was scuppered by loud volume, house-piercing, bone-shaking, bass sound waves from next door. I can block out many things (ear plugs help) but not those low-frequency, super long wavelengths that literally break and enter, then physically assault you.

Over the past month, there have been a few such doofie sound invasions. For now, I'm classing these over the top bass sessions as a Recent Development, and filing them under Real Life. However, should they continue to contaminate my writing time, I'll have to move them back to a folder labelled Real Problem.

*Sigh* If only I had a castle on a hill with a moat on Pluto.