Neighbours.
Dec. 6th, 2008 10:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sister_luckI live right at the edge of the city centre. Considering the location, it's fairly quiet: no trams close-by and the bigger roads with lots of traffic are a couple of streets away. There is a constant background hum of distant traffic. Except for the occasional boyracer reving his car or the siren of an ambulance you can't make out the individual vehicles.
Instead, we can hear a rooster crowing in the gardens by the mostly disused railway line which gives you a strange illusion of rural life. But he's not the one who, on working days, wakes us nearly every morning at about 4.30. That honour falls to the guy with the moped living in a house across from our backyard. The space before the garages there is covered with noisy gravel and the moped is a bit reluctant to start. It took us a while to figure out what it was.
Today, he left at about 7 to go somewhere. That means I got some quiet computer time before I enter into marking hell for the rest of the weekend.
The house is slowly waking up - I can hear the downstairs neighbours rummaging around, but I've not yet heard the husband's trademark sneeze or their phone. Their dog never barks, but when the grandkid is around, we get our share of their life as proud grandparents.
What do you hear in and around your house on a Saturday morning?
Instead, we can hear a rooster crowing in the gardens by the mostly disused railway line which gives you a strange illusion of rural life. But he's not the one who, on working days, wakes us nearly every morning at about 4.30. That honour falls to the guy with the moped living in a house across from our backyard. The space before the garages there is covered with noisy gravel and the moped is a bit reluctant to start. It took us a while to figure out what it was.
Today, he left at about 7 to go somewhere. That means I got some quiet computer time before I enter into marking hell for the rest of the weekend.
The house is slowly waking up - I can hear the downstairs neighbours rummaging around, but I've not yet heard the husband's trademark sneeze or their phone. Their dog never barks, but when the grandkid is around, we get our share of their life as proud grandparents.
What do you hear in and around your house on a Saturday morning?
