Noise Abatement Society

I wasn't axe-murdered last night by the irate downstairs neighbour (DN). It wasn't the 'totally hedonic' experience I'm still seeking this week, but it was... no bad. I'd made sure the Big Wan was in the flat for the meeting in case DN was a violent mentalist, but he wasn't needed. The exchange of constructive notes over the weekend had already taken the heat out of the issue.

The problem is bare wood floors, and that my PC desk is over his bedroom. While I don't wear stilettos or clogs at 3 am (or any other time), I do sometimes keep odd hours and hadn't appreciated how well wood floors transmit sound/vibration. I took a crash course in the acoustic properties of wood floors over the weekend and developed sympathy for his problem, if not his initial approach to it. At the meeting, he showed the grace and courtesy to apologise for his less-than-perfect handling of the problem, and to compliment my approach. The computer-desk chair now rests on a rug and new house rules are to remove footwear, with an agreement with DN to monitor the effectiveness of this solution and not to sit on unexpressed resentment.

I wonder that he's maybe thought that my computer-chair scraping noises were shagging percussion, and that's why he was reluctant to complain until absolutely apoplectic. The sole previous complaint from him was years ago, when I was indeed enjoying a honeymoon period with a new boyfriend and a poorly-assembled, creaky bedframe. Thus in a parallel universe I may have been recently conducting all-night sessions of tantric porn-star capacity and duration, without my knowledge.

So let's hope that's the end of that. 20 years experience of tenement living teaches that for every stair there will be an outraged resident. Mrs. MacGillivray in Morningside counted and categorised all stair traffic, reporting back on good or bad visitors. Stair meetings with Jessie in Polwarth were kangaroo courts of the student tenants, accused of causing the sewer overflow problem by their flagrant use of condoms and tampons. It's been pure luck that (aside from poor Tollcross Nana, whose phone I apparently tapped) I've avoided being the target till now.