Dear Spurtle,

The peace and quiet of Broughton neighbourhoods seems to be increasingly disturbed by various dogs making their presence heard. Of course, the numbers have hugely increased in the past three years, and no doubt they get stressed. In the past this was more of an oddity, with dogs being less commonly kept in cities.

The intrusion is annoying for a large number of households, as the sound reverberates round the buildings and is truly disturbing. It seems to occur mainly early in the morning and in the evenings, just when we are all blessed by the silence from traffic.

Yapping/throaty barking has negative connotations, being unpredictable, quite intimidating to listen to, and not soothing compared with, say, the dawn chorus or cooing wood pigeons (which we are also fortunate to enjoy). And often it is not easy to find out the exact source of the noise.

It frequently occurs just when all is quiet: one dog starts, with others joining the conversation. Perhaps they bark when taken out twice daily for walkies, or while they race around local green spaces, or might it be when they are left alone?

Does anyone have a solution to this problem, which will inevitably worsen with the sheer number of dogs now in the community?

Browned-off in Broughton

Dear Spurtle, 

I saw this van parked by the Water of Leith last week.

It's nice to see the National Bard immortalised by a business venture, and one hopes it is more successful than his own attempts to make money.

Some might argue that this goes against the animal-loving spirit of the original poem, but, to be fair, Burns might have felt differently about mice if they were running around his kitchen. 

David McDowell 

Dear Spurtle,

Referring to 'Tracking down the Broughton screech' (Spurtle No. 331, August 2023, page 2), it is not clear what the unholy screech sounds like. But a few years ago, I exorcised a recurring screech for a neighbour.

The screech would make itself heard at all hours, with no pattern, but with a (reported/perceived) preference for 04:00. It would be at an imprecise frequency of around 1000 Hz, i.e. the approximate vocal range of an excited young child, with a rich timbre of fluctuating harmonics. It would last somewhere between 10 and 30 seconds, and then stop completely. No verbal content could be distinguished.

Closing doors and double-glazed windows made no difference. Earplugs were useless.

The matter was complicated by a language difference. Between myself and my neighbour, you must understand, not between myself and the screech – I pride myself on semi-fluent Screech. However, to add a dash of mystery sauce to the riddle, only the affected neighbour had ever heard said screech.

It's such a good word, screech.

The screech, when I found it, turned out to be not human. Nor indeed superhuman. Nor was the screech external to the building. It came from below the floor!

To be precise - the downstairs neighbours were early risers, and they would hang up a load of laundry shortly before leaving their flat. They had a pulley laundry rail, and being a rental flat, the pulley axles had become dry and slightly rusty.

The screechorcism involved a chalk circle, seven white candles, three Jerusalem artichokes ... and an arcane ritual with a can of WD40.

Good luck to Annandale Street.  :)

Mark von Delft

[EDITOR:—There have been developments. Full report in Issue 332 (September).