Noises Off

I am a little rattled.

Having the Awen upon me, this afternoon (sounds grand, don't it? Just means I felt like writing!) I settled down and wrote a rantlette for my blog. You would have it no other way, I am bound to guess, and neither would I. Having completed it I wanted to revel in my smug self-congratulations before I spewed further drivel on to the (electronic) page. So I took myself into the garden for a mug of something hot and beveragey.

The weather has been glorious for the last few weeks, and continues to be so. I planned to sit on the patio, with my mug of coffee, and watch the bees' industry. Maybe read a little of the book I am partway through this week. It is so soothing, watching another creature working, and the colours and scents are simply wonderful. I love an afternoon coffee in the garden. I was ready to allow my thoughts and inspirations to collect and gently percolate into patterns and stories which might be worth relating here. I was not accommodated. Apparently, it is permissible to keep gibbons and howler monkies in a person's back garden around here!

Some neighbours, a few gardens down, had also noticed the glorious weather and had placed their pre-pubescent female children into swimming costumes (one assumes), encouraging them to play outside (again, assumption). Certainly, the squeals and shrieks wafting on the breeze led me to believe that small girls were playing in the pool. How lovely! This through gritted teeth.

Not conducive, though, to thinking. Or smugging. Or any kind of cerebral activity requiring peace, or, at the very least, a white noise of low constant tone. To complete my joy, the mothers (yep – we're assuming again) had marginally lower pitched voices than the small creatures. And I really do mean 'marginally' – probably not possible to detect with electronic equipment or dogs' ears. All were joyously howling, shrieking and squealing, including a regular urging to 'eat my shorts'. Which might be funny, in context, in 2D, but is irritating when repeated constantly in a small female voice. I did consider helping said child to the underside of the water, but decided it might be less than acceptable to express myself quite that way. Anyway – I couldn't think of a way to maintain my cool whilst clambering over the walls separating the gardens.

I finished my coffee and was gathering my things to escape to the peace and quiet of the computer room when one of the adults squawked to another that she 'just cannot do it'. It occurred to me to ask her if she could 'not do it' quietly. I didn't. I'm English. I just muttered it under my breath. But I did feel better. And next time I might say it a little louder and make a passive/aggressive intrusion into their fun. Just for the hell of it.

So – just to leave no one in any kind of doubt. If you should move into the area. This is a road where we like to do thinking and being quiet. In the main. If you have small children who like to shriek, dogs who communicate through howls or wives/girlfriends who have not been through the equivalent process to testes-dropping and retain an annoying shrill voice? Don't move in to our road.

I really might have to be terribly rude to the next person who disturbs me and the bees in our important work. I might even speak up!