The sound of anything but silence...
There's something about the care home on Mount Road that makes me mad to live there. It's just this: where the hell do you go if you want to find some peace and quiet? The answer is there is none ANYWHERE. There should be, but there isn't. Living there is like having a barrage of constant noise thrown at you from all sides. It's a noise that will eventually drive you fucking mad if you let it. You sit in your room and all you hear is rock and roll music. You sit on the balcony and all you hear is rock and roll. You sit in the lounge and all you hear is the television. They leave the dining room empty for Christine and her animalistic noises. All you hear is a constant "ugh ugh" sound and after five minutes you've really had enough. We need a quiet room where there is no noise at all.
If James, next-door, doesn't have his radio on full blast, he normally does an impression (really loudly) of what it would sound like if the Concorde came in to land. Then he noisily spits at a bird. The bird runs for cover as if he's facing a showdown with Clint Eastwood in one of those old spaghetti westerns that you see on tv.
Then there's the noise that comes from Trudi's room, a noise that is so loud you can literally feel the earth move beneath your feet. It's like the noise you get from a pneumatic drilland it only gets turned off at at 1.30 when she has her lunch. That's what it feels like to be me. People often wonder why i twitch like i do. That's the reason i give them. To top it all, as if it can be topped, Christine makes a load of chimpanzee mating calls and then she gets moved to the lounge.
The sound is almost deafening and you have to put up with it on a daily basis. They wonder why you don't like noise. It's a part of everyday life, isn't it? I mean, reading a book is so wrong and the amount of stress you get is unbearable. But no-one does anything because it would affect the rights of those that make the noise in the first place.