We live next door to a children's nursery. Apparently, local bye-laws say they should be allowed to be outside for a minimum of 2 hours each day, which sounds reasonable- unless of course you happen to live next door. They let them out into the garden and within seconds they are shrieking, roaring and yelling at the tops of their little, high-pitched voices. Worse still, they ride along in little foot-driven cars which trundle up and down their garden so relentlessly it sounds like the marshaling yards at Crewe junction. I have complained (politely, I assure you) many times, and the noise levels subside for a week or so. But then, like some Alzheimer's sufferer, they simply forget all about the crabby guy next door who likes his peace and quiet and the din resumes with renewed vigour.
It's the one thing that makes me think of moving, especially after I retire when I will inevitably be spending more time at home. Or I can long for the damp, grey months of winter when they aren't let out of doors very much. Then I shall have a little repose. But fancy dreading the summer! It's crazy, but it's true...
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