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Paying for past vices

I used to love playing my music at rather loud levels – much to the disgust of my neighbours. My stereo back in the UK was seriously powerful – so powerful that when the neighbours started hammering on the front door, I used to think it was just part of the music. Well, I was young, free and, let’s face it, pretty inconsiderate.

Well, those who live by the sword, or stereo in my case, die by it or so the old saying goes. Where I now live there is this bar which specialises in live and loud music and it just happens to back onto our appartment block. I do remember asking the former owners about the music level and remember being told that it was hardly noticeable. They were lying, big time. The music pounds away until 2 in the morning most nights and you can hear it pretty well with all the windows closed. Summer is now coming and sleeping with the windows shut here is a great way to suffocate yourself, not to mention finding yourself lying in you very own home made water bed, only the water is not water, it is your sweat. Not nice.

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I will never again pay my favourite toons at unsocially loud levels, I promise. Not unless I happen to move into some isolated spot in the middle of the mountains where my own personal disco will annoy no-one.

My ex-neighbours would be laughing themselves silly if they knew just what I was having to put up with. ‘Serves himself right’, I can hear them saying. And much as I hate to admit it, they are right. My sins have caught up with me and revenge is being well and truly, if indirectly, extracted. If you happen to know anyone who is selling a secondhand time machine at a good price, let me know. I promise that I will go back and turn down the volume. Naughty me.

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