The hilarity of 'Noisy Neighbours'

My husband and I have started house hunting. I've never owned a house, most of my friends do. I'd like to not have to ask before putting pictures up or be able to change the wall colour when I like. So after a year of marriage and trying very hard to save a deposit we want to see if we can get on 'the ladder'. It's a fun process at the moment as we're just starting out and we've not really got a deadline. So estate agents are now our best friends and our weekends as we try to save money are to be filled with nosing around other people's gaffs! We probably want to find somewhere by the end of the year when our rental agreement ends.

Oh the joys of renting. I've always done it. I've lived in lots of places and had numerous neighbours. We love where we're currently living - but as is always the case when the property isn't yours, there are gripes. We have a very noisy boiler, our bedroom cupboards seem to be very cold and we have recent acquired a VERY noisy one. 

I've always been reluctant about living in a flat. We've been here a year with no problems from our neighbours. They're a pretty friendly lot. We've drunk wine with some, been given apples from another, even rescued one of them - after she'd left her gas on! 

Then last week it sounded like a porn movie was being reenacted above our heads. After a sleepless night as the performance continued over many hours - the following day I talked about it on my breakfast radio show. I had to as it was entertaining as well as being somewhat concerning. The woman was sounding like she had entered the 'Red Room'!  This was the note I created to share with the neighbours... 

THIS was the note we got back through our door!

So I have a SMUG noisy neighbour it seems! The winky face is someone proud of their performance. My Sherlock instinct has deduced this is a woman's hand.

My husband wants to go and confront them and if it continues, I am planning to start playing my trumpet again (no that's not a euphemism) Am I being a prude wanting them to pipe down? 

 

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Do stranger things happen?

Last weekend, my beloved and I jumped on the Eurostar for a weekend in Paris. On route he excitedly told me that earlier, a friend who had been on his mind, had called out of the blue about something work related.  My fella ended the call saying he'd speak more after we'd returned from Paris and the friend exclaimed he stood beneath the Eiffel Tower as he spoke! What are the chances of that. So we all met up the following day. After a lovely brief Saturday in Paris, we fell into bed that night and I recall having a very good sleep. Over breakfast the next day, I told my Husband about my dream. It was about our neighbours and how they'd got engaged. Sunday afternoon as we walked down our drive to our flat, who should we see driving towards us but our neighbours. They stopped the car to ask how our trip to Paris had been. I told them I'd had a dream about them the night before, to which my friend announced 'We got engaged' and on request ( once my hubby and I had closed our open mouths) she showed me the beautiful sparkler on her finger. How bizarre is that?

Ps. I climbed the Eiffel Tower in my fur coat! 

Do the French do fur?

This weekend, I'm off to gay Paris with my lovely hubby on the Eurostar. Not wanting to be smug but I think it's possibly the best Chrimbo pressie I've bought, seeing as it's a giver in January and I get to enjoy it too. I have no idea what the weather is gonna be like and we all know Paris is notoriously wet when you want a romantic weekend. Judging by the relentless rain in Blighty I don't have high hopes. BUT... I'd really like to wear my late Nanna Sadie's mink fur coat. 

My Nanna Sadie was so glamorous and although I wasn't old enough to appreciate this whilst she was alive I was thrilled when my Mum presented me with this last year, but I'm yet to wear it. 

I do need to get it reshaped as the box style of the 50's doesn't do me any favours, so that's on the to do list.. yet I know I'm scared to wear it. I like you, shared the post about High Street stores plucking lovely little Angora bunnies. To be honest, I wouldn't dream of buying fur now. I also know how popular faux is.. But given that this is a piece of history, hung with love in my Mother's wardrobe for years, accompanied by a vanilla scented coat hanger to lift to strong scent a fur coat carries, surely I'm OK to wear it?

I tweeted a fashionista friend earlier today who I know wears furs to ask her opinion I'm so unsure. Her advice was if anyone challenged me pretend I was Italian or Russian! Now I find myself writing a blog...

My gut says wear it. What's the worst that can happen? Surely it's stuff of fiction that I'd offend someone so, that they threw something awful on me once I'd sauntered up the steps of the Sacre Couer on the arm of my beau to pose for a picture... 

My imagination is too vivid. I'll just have to see how I feel on Friday!