Its been five years since that tumultuous chapter began, and reflecting on it now, I still feel a mix of exasperation and amusement. Back then, my husband and I had two children, yet all four of us were crammed into the tiniest single bedroom you could find in South London. Of course, we desperately needed more space, though at first it was simply the stuff of late-night conversations over lukewarm tea.
But the matter became quite pressing when we discovered that we were expecting our third child. Suddenly, the question of living arrangements was no longer one we could put off. The only viable option was to sell our current little flat, scrape together what savings we had, and use everything to buy a three-bedroom placeeven if it meant moving to the outskirts.
So thats exactly what we did. After selling up, we bought a much-longed-for three-bed flat in an ageing Victorian block. The flat itself was impeccably renovated, and all we had to do was move in our furniture and try to settle in.
For a brief and blissful moment, we were content. But that feeling was soon overshadowed by the cold realisation that the neighbours upstairs had formed some sort of alliancealmost as though they wanted to show us who really ran the block.
Their complaints seemed endless and, frankly, petty.
Why were the communal doors propped open for so long?
Well, wed been carrying in boxes all morning. Of course the doors had to stay open for a bit.
Why do you park your car under my window?
But I explained, Im parked beneath my own window on the ground flooryours are two storeys up! What do you expect me to do?
Then came the complaint that nearly made me lose my temper.
When your children come home from nursery, theyre running up and down the hallwaycausing a ruckus! And you let them watch cartoons, the noise travels up!
How could the children possibly be bothering you? Youre two floors above us!
But the final straw was when my patience finally snapped. Our neighbours took it upon themselves to come round and harangue my pregnant wifewho was alone at home, due to give birth in a months time. A couple of the women from upstairs showed up in the afternoon, voices raised, brimming with accusations.
Weve come to have a word.
Whats the problem?
Your husband let some strange man into the building while he went outside for a cigarette. Now this mans been knocking door to door, offering to make extra key fobs for the front gate.
My husband doesnt even smoke! (And I truly never have.) Then they added: if this man copies key fobs, hell be able to get into the building any time he likes.
When I got home and heard what had happened, I marched straight up and told the neighbours, rather bluntly, that enough was enough.
After that confrontation, things finally calmed. We managed to maintain a civil peace, though our neighbours never did greet us again. Its strange, looking back, how something as simple as trying to build a better life for your family could provoke such drama from those above. Still, life goes on, and I suppose we all learned which boundaries not to cross.
