And so it goes on...

No real development in the 'noisy neighbour' stakes but the situation does throw up a moot point: at which juncture does one's own behaviour become antisocial? In seeking merely a decent night's sleep you're pushed to act in a manner you wouldn't normally choose. Having banged loudly on the door of the people upstairs a few nights back we actually had peace until the following morning. Not that much of an achievement, I admit, considering it was already gone 1am. The night after, things were back to normal: tangoing whales and break-dancing mammoth. This whole issue should have moved to the next level a while ago: engaging the owner to do something about the insulation of her property, but she's never at home. We've sent her a letter but the jury's out on whether she even acknowledges it. How much time should we leave her before contacting the town hall's housing department? A week? Three weeks? Difficult to say when you already dread going home in the evening, sure in the knowledge that you'll be wasting energy which could be used to positive ends just wondering when the noise is going to start and how long it'll last.

We're certainly not the only people to have this kind of problem; it seems the country is awash with tenants who'd be better housed in soundproof boxes on a riverbed. Yet it seems that those enduring this appalling behaviour receive little or no back-up from the authorities when they try to pursue their case. There are always the courts but my faith in French justice is minimal and this is the kind of thing you should be able to sort out without having to go before a judge.

Talk about wasted energy. There are so many things I'd like to record in my online diary but the daily confrontation with unnecessary domestic noise bundles them all out of brain's back door while this puerile conflict gets the red-carpet treatment all the way up to the main entrance.

So I just went up to ask them again, as politely as possible, to keep the noise down. Apparently, they're going to get in touch with the owner/agency to try to get them to do something about the floor in their flat. The more I go up the more motivated they'll be to actually do something about it, I hope. Hope springs eternal. To be fair, they were all in their stockinged feet and trying, at least while I was there, to walk around as quietly as possible. Even then, I could feel the floor vibrating from where I was standing on the landing. Gordon Bennett; I can't believe I'm writing so much about this but sleep deprivation does strange things to people.

Here's to the next time, when I hope I'll be able to write something I might actually enjoy reading in years to come instead of just this meaningless, domestic drivel.