Neighbours? Don't you love 'em! That strong sense of community in the Valleys ; the essence of 'chwarae teg'. Wel, joc mawr yw fe!
We have had a nightmare month as a result of our neighbours, but it is nothing new.
Many years ago I wrote the poem 'Once A Musical Nation' to satirize them. They objected to my wife's evening piano lessons and detested my son and daughter practising on cello, piano and violin. They decided to call in the Environmental Services department of our then Labour Council to measure sound levels. At one stage, they almost ran over my son, such was their fury!
We received a letter from the Council warning us about 'Noise Pollution'. Beethoven, Bach, Faure, Elgar........all deemed as 'pollution' by our enlightened rulers!
I complained to Liberty and to the Ombudsman. Our neighbours came round to talk directly to us and, to our utter amazement, the police arrived saying there had been reports of a 'disturbance'! At the time, the police seemed to respond with totally uncharacteristic haste.
Irony of ironies, my son later went on to play cello at a Charity Concert organised by the mother of the man next door. She gave him great praise. Noise pollution topped the bill and received loud applause.
Fast forward some 15 years and the latest dispute is equally petty.
We came home less than a month ago to a high bamboo fence , which they had erected in our garden, because they'd expected us to put up a high fence which had been in place before.
My wife was livid that they'd done so without even asking and proceeded to take part of it down.
They have been obsessed with a new fence they had put up and even told my 11 year-old to 'stop touching it!', when she was playing in the garden.
We actually managed to come to an agreement and told them we'd pay for a lattice-fence to top theirs. They rejected it, there followed a heated discussion ,but eventually a compromise was agreed. Within minutes , the police arrived on the scene ready to charge us with 'criminal damage' and taking the viewpoint of our neighbours at every point made.
Firstly, how can the police turn up so quickly over what is essentially a civil wrangle? Secondly, they must surely know someone, because it was soon obvious the officers weren't interested in our opinions at all, assuming the land was theirs and we had no right to remove their bamboo barrier.
I have since learned that they did commit the civil offence of 'nuisance'. Had I known this at the time I would have argued our case more adamantly with the police.
Twice after this they summoned the police, who reacted with ridiculous speed on both occasions. It seems our beloved neighbours were carrying out a systematic harrassment of us and lying to the police every time to bring them out. Yet, they were not challenged about wasting police time. One officer told me - 'It's very hard to prove.'
This is the reality of life in the Valleys. Sadly, the antithesis of solidarity and togetherness.
Of course, there are great people around us and we have had neighbours in the past who have helped and supported us, as we have them. However, the actions of our neighbours leaves you with a bitter and cynical opinion of people generally.
When Wordsworth referred to poetry as 'emotion recollected in tranquillity', I'm sure he didn't have this kind of poem in mind. It is a matter of revenge : poetry as missile not metaphor!
CRIMINAL FENCE
There are limits t bard language.
If I called ower neighbours BASTARDS
it’d an an insult t ev’ry child
ever born outa marriage.
There int words t describe ow I feel.
It should be summin like THATCHERS
or BLAIRS or maybe CAMERONS.
Wouldn wan t breathe theyer air.
It’s ard t bleeve, they called-a pleece
three times in a matter o weeks,
they lied through theyer razor teeth :
they must ave a bloody ot-line!
Domestics, drugs, robbrees an may’em
all goin on round town,
but they come in seconds
all coz of a fence.
We come ome an it woz there,
a Bamboo Curtain, over six foot,
builders done it while we woz out ;
my missis rippin, we took it down.
‘Criminal damage!’ sayz the officers,
‘we could arrest yew on the spot!’
So we paid ev’ry penny t them
CAMERONBLAIRTHATCHERS.
Thought we owned the fence-posts
an got a builder t remove em ;
agen the cops arrived like we wuz murderers,
talkin ‘theft’ arfta theyer lies on-a phone.
Third time it woz theyer builders
oo I tol wuz committin a civil offence;
when-a las cop come, thought I’d carried out fantasies,
sleep-walked an throttled em in my sleep.
No, this wuz about ‘abusin the builders’.
If ‘abusin’ is such a crime,
they could arrest arf the population,
or make the whool countree a prison.
There are limits t bard language :
if I could really describe ower neighbours,
if I woz ever in-a dock
I think I’d call em VILE MURDOCHS!
We have had a nightmare month as a result of our neighbours, but it is nothing new.
Many years ago I wrote the poem 'Once A Musical Nation' to satirize them. They objected to my wife's evening piano lessons and detested my son and daughter practising on cello, piano and violin. They decided to call in the Environmental Services department of our then Labour Council to measure sound levels. At one stage, they almost ran over my son, such was their fury!
We received a letter from the Council warning us about 'Noise Pollution'. Beethoven, Bach, Faure, Elgar........all deemed as 'pollution' by our enlightened rulers!
I complained to Liberty and to the Ombudsman. Our neighbours came round to talk directly to us and, to our utter amazement, the police arrived saying there had been reports of a 'disturbance'! At the time, the police seemed to respond with totally uncharacteristic haste.
Irony of ironies, my son later went on to play cello at a Charity Concert organised by the mother of the man next door. She gave him great praise. Noise pollution topped the bill and received loud applause.
Fast forward some 15 years and the latest dispute is equally petty.
We came home less than a month ago to a high bamboo fence , which they had erected in our garden, because they'd expected us to put up a high fence which had been in place before.
My wife was livid that they'd done so without even asking and proceeded to take part of it down.
They have been obsessed with a new fence they had put up and even told my 11 year-old to 'stop touching it!', when she was playing in the garden.
We actually managed to come to an agreement and told them we'd pay for a lattice-fence to top theirs. They rejected it, there followed a heated discussion ,but eventually a compromise was agreed. Within minutes , the police arrived on the scene ready to charge us with 'criminal damage' and taking the viewpoint of our neighbours at every point made.
Firstly, how can the police turn up so quickly over what is essentially a civil wrangle? Secondly, they must surely know someone, because it was soon obvious the officers weren't interested in our opinions at all, assuming the land was theirs and we had no right to remove their bamboo barrier.
I have since learned that they did commit the civil offence of 'nuisance'. Had I known this at the time I would have argued our case more adamantly with the police.
Twice after this they summoned the police, who reacted with ridiculous speed on both occasions. It seems our beloved neighbours were carrying out a systematic harrassment of us and lying to the police every time to bring them out. Yet, they were not challenged about wasting police time. One officer told me - 'It's very hard to prove.'
This is the reality of life in the Valleys. Sadly, the antithesis of solidarity and togetherness.
Of course, there are great people around us and we have had neighbours in the past who have helped and supported us, as we have them. However, the actions of our neighbours leaves you with a bitter and cynical opinion of people generally.
When Wordsworth referred to poetry as 'emotion recollected in tranquillity', I'm sure he didn't have this kind of poem in mind. It is a matter of revenge : poetry as missile not metaphor!
CRIMINAL FENCE
There are limits t bard language.
If I called ower neighbours BASTARDS
it’d an an insult t ev’ry child
ever born outa marriage.
There int words t describe ow I feel.
It should be summin like THATCHERS
or BLAIRS or maybe CAMERONS.
Wouldn wan t breathe theyer air.
It’s ard t bleeve, they called-a pleece
three times in a matter o weeks,
they lied through theyer razor teeth :
they must ave a bloody ot-line!
Domestics, drugs, robbrees an may’em
all goin on round town,
but they come in seconds
all coz of a fence.
We come ome an it woz there,
a Bamboo Curtain, over six foot,
builders done it while we woz out ;
my missis rippin, we took it down.
‘Criminal damage!’ sayz the officers,
‘we could arrest yew on the spot!’
So we paid ev’ry penny t them
CAMERONBLAIRTHATCHERS.
Thought we owned the fence-posts
an got a builder t remove em ;
agen the cops arrived like we wuz murderers,
talkin ‘theft’ arfta theyer lies on-a phone.
Third time it woz theyer builders
oo I tol wuz committin a civil offence;
when-a las cop come, thought I’d carried out fantasies,
sleep-walked an throttled em in my sleep.
No, this wuz about ‘abusin the builders’.
If ‘abusin’ is such a crime,
they could arrest arf the population,
or make the whool countree a prison.
There are limits t bard language :
if I could really describe ower neighbours,
if I woz ever in-a dock
I think I’d call em VILE MURDOCHS!
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