BUZZERK IN BELLEVUE

It’s late: 9.30pm-late and we’re all in bed. With the Little Left-Handed Tea Drinker insisting on getting up at 5.00am every morning, we sleep when we can these days.

BUZZZZZZZZ!

I jump up like a startled goat. What self-respecting person would be ringing the buzzer at this time of night? I go to the intercom and answer, but there’s nobody there.

I return to bed. 

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

I jump up again and go to answer.

‘What?’ I shout.

Once again there’s no reply. In the end I decide to turn the buzzer off and return to bed.

DING-DONG!

The unwanted visitor has gained access to the building and rung the doorbell to our flat. I’ve had enough. I march to the door and open it.

I’m greeted by a large number of students armed with enough bottles and cans to last all year. ‘We’re here for the party,’ grunts one hairy looking optimist.

I explain that there is no party in this flat. From up above, someone leans over the banister and shouts, ‘You’ve got the wrong flat, come upstairs’.

Approximately 30 students trundle up the stairs and I return to bed, not expecting to get any sleep as the music above kicks in and the Little LHTD wakes up. 

The next day I turn the buzzer back on. That evening we’re all in bed by 8.30pm and the same thing happens. 

BUZZZZZZZZ!

‘Don’t answer it,’ says Mrs LHTD.

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

‘It might be a burglar,’ I whisper.

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

‘Burglars don’t ring the bell,’ she sighs.

DING-DONG!

‘They do if they‘re trying to work out whether you’re at home or not,’ I reply.

This time it is a door-to-door chugger (charity mugger), or churglar (charity burglar) as I believe they’re called. Who allowed them to move away from their designated town-centre hotspots? I politely decline his very tempting offer of helping to reintroduce ostriches to the Highlands. The commotion has woken the Little LHTD and a full night’s sleep is looking unlikely once again.

Throughout last week the same thing happened every evening. Each time I went to bed earlier than the day before and the buzzer would sound. 

One night it was a Domino’s pizza delivery for next door, the next it was someone to read the meter. Was there any point in turning the buzzer off when they still managed to gain access to the building? 

What I don’t understand is why my neighbours let any old person into the building without checking what they’re doing. 

‘Hello, I’m here to deliver some takeaway menus?’ Great come on in and clog up our letterboxes.

‘Hi, I’m performing a six-hour, one-man, avant-garde Fringe show about life as a member of a local community council, told through the powerful medium of mime. Can I drop some flyers off?’ How riveting, the more flyers the merrier.

‘Yo, I’m here to steal the bikes in the stairwell?’ Please be my guest, and why not check the lock on my front door while you’re here?

As the saying goes, ‘Whenever a bell rings in an Edinburgh tenement, an idiot neighbour lets someone into the building without knowing who they are or what they want.’ 

By Friday, I’d finally lost it. Sleep-deprived, I turned the buzzer off, disabled the doorbell and put a sign up saying, ‘DO NOT DISTURB. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE.’ I went to bed at 7.00pm. Nothing was going to wake me tonight.

Thirty minutes later.

KNOCK-KNOCK!

This couldn’t be happening.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

Who could it be this time?

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

I marched to the door, unlocked it and swung it open.

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ the person said. ‘I’m your local parliamentary candidate …’

I interrupted, ‘Do you know what time it is?’ 

‘It’s 7.30pm,’ replied the cheerful would-be politician.

‘Can you not read the sign?’ I asked.

‘What sign?’

I looked to where the sign had been pinned only to see a blank space. Perhaps a neighbour was exacting revenge for the 5.00am wake-up calls that the building endures on a daily basis.

‘Never mind the sign,’ I replied. ‘It’s the middle of the bloody night. I’ve been woken up every night this week by drunken students, a churglar, a lost pizza delivery driver and other idiots who couldn’t remember a simple flat number.

‘I tell you what: I’ll vote for you if you consider creating a curfew to stop people being outdoors after 7.00pm. No more ringing people’s buzzers, doorbells or knocking on doors and waking me up. What do you say?’

‘I don’t think that quite fits our values.’

I’ll be telling the next person who rings the buzzer very politely to BUZZ OFF!

Unless it’s another churglar. I’m finding the prospect of reintroducing ostriches to the Highlands very tempting right now and potentially very peaceful. 

You can read more musings from the Left-Handed Tea Drinker by visiting thelefthandedteadrinker.wordpress.com.