The sounds of my flatPosted: December 22, 2010
When I’m alone in my flat, I might not speak for six hours. I never got into the habit of having music ‘on’, because whenever I hear music I invariably end up devoting too much of my attention to it. So I’ve gotten to know the more regular noises around the end of Maryhill.
– There is a curious whistling at around eight every night.
– Very early in the morning, most days, a police siren will scream past.
– Sometimes, there is an ice cream van. I strongly suspect it sells drugs, but not strongly enough, or I’d be out there sampling the goods.
– The flat across the street will often play party music loudly. It reminds me of Liar Clive’s long walk home in the BBC3 comedy Monkey Dust. Oh man, I just remembered the Paedofinder General.
– The church bells at six on a Sunday.
– Some fucker across the alley puts their dog out unattended every night, in sub-arctic temperatures, then closes the door and ignores its pleading to get back in. I might go steal that dog.
Sigh. Silence is golden.