HOT WATER BOTTLE, PLEASE

© drew

Sometimes, to entertain myself in my boring, uneventful life, I while away my time reading about other people’s blog lives. I think I have mentioned another 'petite anglaise' who blogs about her life and her adventures much more revealingly than I do. Her most recent entry struck a chord, concerning, as it does, a particular English foible about not liking to make a big fuss about things. Especially noisy neighbours. And also sex. And, most especially, noisy neighbours having sex. I am particularly fortunate this year in that I don’t have any noisy neighbours (in fact, sometimes I even wonder if I do actually have any neighbours). But last year, I had a mad clarinet-playing neighbour, and an opera-singing neighbour, and a neighbour with a dog, and a neighbour with noisy shoes, oh, and also upstairs neighbours whom I could hear in their – ahem - ‘nocturnals’ and sometimes even ‘diurnals’. Well, I suppose this is Paris after all. ;p