neighbours from hell

Dear Neighbours,

I wish to apologise for that little disturbance last night. You may have thought for a moment that the comic fire brigade had indeed revolted from their arts festival shop window. Instead it was a comedy of errors playing out at our house. And the fact that it happened at around 2 in the morning, and went on for some excruciatingly long time, perhaps half an hour - well, I am not sure how to explain. 

Suffice to say that our house alarm roaring into life at such a time, in the middle of a nice, quiet, albeit rainy, Wellington night, was as much a surprise to us, as I'm sure it was to you. And believe me, we were indeed home, we just didn't know how exactly to turn it off. And yes, I know it got progressively worse. I heard it too. Up very close and personal it was. You see, I too was fast asleep, Brunnel snoring alongside me, when there was indeed a loud and rude awakening. Even Brunnel heard it, and believe me, that means it was loud. We staggered up wondering what the cacophony was. Is now a good time to confess that we hadn't actually heard our house alarm ever before? So you see, it took a small befuddled moment to register that the noise was indeed coming from the siren on the front of our house. From an alarm that was certainly not set. It took another befuddled moment to realise that there had been a power cut, and then there was a moment of panic as we staggered around in the dark wondering how to turn off an alarm that in theory wasn't on. But, as you, dear neighbour, were well aware, it was on. How do you turn off an alarm when there is no power to the keypad, and not one light showing on said keypad? And no, we don't have a remote, or a key.... I tried hitting it. This did not work.

Just to check we were all awake, suddenly in the hall, a noise that at first sounded like a strangled budgie, also roared into action. Yes, that would have been the internal siren that you then heard above the noise of the external siren. Brunnel, in his undies, was a sight to behold. He was outside, in the rain, in the meter box, frantically turning off switches. I reminded him gently, that there was no power. I didn't think that turning off a power switch in the meter box was going to be much help. He didn't appreciate my help. Meanwhile, thinking we had a full-scale emergency, Eva had a meltdown, and Bruno the dog, joined in. Sensible cool-headed Milly, found the torch. Encouraged by the panic, the internal siren gained strength. Now we had two sirens screaming. Brunnel, wobbling on a stool, up in a high cupboard, had remembered another 'alarm box'. It was full of wires. I reminded him, gently again, that there was no power.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the external siren died. I'm sure you were relieved. However, the siren in the hall had unfinished business. Amongst the crying and the dog howling, it just went on and on and on. It became quite apparent that the only way to 'shut it up' would be somehow getting it off the ceiling and disconnecting it. No easy thing when this is 3.5 metres high. We needed our trusty tool kit and a ladder. Brunnel put his jeans on to run down to the garage. We didn't need to upset any more neighbours, should any of you chance him in his undies. Slight problem. No power, no garage access. The tool kit became a knife & a phillips head screwdriver. We needed the other kind of screwdriver.

Up on the very top of the ladder, his finger in a hole to deafen the siren ever so slightly, Brunnel was not happy. The knife was being difficult and I was not holding the torch in the right place. Some long long minutes later, and we were victorious. The siren was overcome. Your relief was palpable. The silence was golden.

It was short-lived.

The power came back on, and with it, what sounded, alarmingly, like another siren. What the... ?!!  Did we know we had another internal siren? Who needs two internal sirens? Us apparently. Motivated by a surge of power, this siren was really piercing. Oh yes, you know that. Sorry. 

Back on the ladder. At least we knew what to do this time, and we could see. Another finger in another hole. Some more choice words. More dog howling...

It was a long long night. When silence was once again restored, Brunnel and I needed a scotch. And how we enjoyed it too.
Will you forgive us, and allow us to live amongst you once more?
Yours truly.
Amanda.

P.S Have a great weekend. We're having a quiet one...

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