Some weeks ago, there was a medieval fair in my neighbourhood and a group of men came to show us how do they worked at the old forging. They brought a furnace to melt the iron, an anvil and a huge collection of hammers and tongs and mesh gloves , leather aprons, and many other instruments. They worked hard to turn the formless iron bars in hoes and other farm tools. When the iron was hot, four or five of them began to hammer with lot of strength. The rhythmic metallic sound filled all the square. The sound dominated over a very strange group that was making what they said it was medieval music all clothed in black, with their faces painted.
Who are your neighbors? Are you friends with them, barely say hi, or avoid them altogether? Tell us a story — real or invented — about the people on the other side of your wall (or street, or farm, or… you get the point).
I live in an apartment and, believe it or not, among my neighbours are the Marquesses of the Royal Defence. How on earth ended I as a neighbour of a family with such a pompous nobility title? It seems the building, located in the old city, was theirs, but they sold it, except for the apartment they’re living in. They have other properties in the region but they like to live a simple life in the city. They are a very nice couple, very polite, very easy-going. Nobody would said they are part of the nobility. They blend with everybody without problems. In fact I only discovered they were the marquesses when I read about them in the local newspaper. It was quite a surprise. We have a nice neighbour relationship. They are extremely polite and quiet. We use to visit each other for Christmas and have a good time together. We help each other when we need something. We visit them when there is some event as a new-born grandchild (their son lives in the same building) or something like that.
We have a very good relationship with our neighbours from the apartment next to ours. Two sisters, very friendly and always ready to help when we needed something. We shared with them our newspaper. And they, very good cooks, gave us cookies and cakes or fresh vegetables they brought us from their country house. We see each other every day. Wonderful people.
Very different were my former neighbours in another building. They were always making some reforms in their apartment, with all the noise you can imagine. Drilling, hammering, sawing without end at all hours. My ailing Mom was exhausted because she couldn’t rest. I went once to talk with them and a man opened the door with a hammer in his hand. I tried to ask him politely if he could stop making noises at certain hours when my Mom had to rest. He answered, very angry and rudely, that he had right to do whatever he wanted at his home whenever he wanted and told me to go out of his presence immediately, hammer in hand. I was so scared I never dared to go alone to complain again. We had to go thru the neighbourhood community to solve our differences. It was really nasty. For me was a mystery what they were doing to that apartment because for years there were no end to the constant drilling and hammering coming from above.
In that building we had problems also with our neighbours from below: a supermarket. Again the noises. Noises from machines. From the freezers and from the air conditioner machines. We had also vibrations from these machines. At night it was impossible to sleep. We complain but they said that we were exaggerating, so we finally had to call the police to measure to noise at night and prove it exceeded the legal limit. They finally were forced to repair the installation.
Daily Prompt: Good Fences?.
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