Someone in the next street

had a wild party last night. It was an occasion for much loud talk, laughter and then the breaking of much glass at about three this morning. At around four in the morning car doors banged, engines were revved, there were shouts of farewell and everything finally went quiet.

The only thing to be said for all this was that the incessant thump, thump of the bass was not to be heard. They were not playing music. No doubt they believed that this meant they were being quiet.

It was another of those very hot nights we have been experiencing of late. In order to sleep at all most people have their air conditioning systems on all night or, like us, they have their windows wide open in an effort to catch whatever cool there is to be caught.

The party people obviously decided that being outside was better than being inside. I know their neighbours have told them before that the noise echoes off their galvanised iron garden fences. It does not seem to register with the idiots. There are, I think, two young men who live in the house but there always seem to four or five more there. They have a large collection of old cars and maniacal motorbikes between them. All of those seem to need regular "tuning" involving that same sort of deep bass beat destined to destroy the very soul of our existence.

I like quiet - even silence does not normally bother me. I cannot work against noise. The constant chatter of the radio in shops and some work places irritates me beyond measure. I don't need to hear the inane conversation between a DJ and some unsuspecting member of the public . The Senior Cat was rung by a commercial radio station once. They wanted to know if he recognised something they had just played. He replied, quite politely, "I'm sorry I have no idea. Can't you just read the label?"

I still wonder what they thought of that. He did not win $5 - or whatever it was. He does not listen to radio and, these days, he rarely watches television. He reads two newspapers - one in a very efficient manner over breakfast and the other (with the better journalism) in a more leisurely manner during the day with his essential cups of morning and afternoon tea. At night he reads books. Ours is a quiet house.

I think some people must live with an almost constant background of noise. How do they think? Or is there a need for noise so they will not think? 

A short while ago I prowled around into the next street. I did so cautiously. I was not afraid of waking the party people. They will probably sleep until at least midday. I was more concerned about what might be on the footpath and on the road. 

Yes, there was glass from broken beer bottles on the footpath and the road. Their elderly next door neighbour was out there clearing it up "before an animal or someone else treads on it". He looked both annoyed and anxious but declined my offer of help. 

"I'll put it in their bin," he told me and then added, "But I feel like putting in on their back door step."

I had no difficulty in imagining how tempted he must feel.