Showing posts with label fireworks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fireworks. Show all posts

Monday, 3 March 2014

Weekend Noise And Asda Race Track

A few days ago a young woman knocked at the door and asked Mr Grumpy what we liked about Langley Mill and wanted to know what ideas we might have to make it better.

Grumpy shouted upstairs to ask if I wanted to answer her questions, I replied that there was nothing TO like about Langley Mill. A minute later I could still hear them talking and I had a rethink - what's the point of me constantly moaning about the place, then when given the opportunity; doing and saying nothing about it.

We invited her in and had a nice chat. The result was that most people she'd asked all said the same about having somewhere for the teenagers to go, instead of them being a nuisance around here.

They go to Asda and McDonalds then gather under the bridge, often up to thirty at a time, bored senseless, looking for mischief, a constant noise and using the place as their rubbish bin.

I told her if she wanted to advertise something for them to do then she'd be as well sticking a notice on the bridge for them. Then they could at least have an opportunity to read it before setting fire to it.

I did tell her that I occasionally write a blog moaning about Langley Mill, it turns out that she had read some of it.

6.00pm Friday evening I thought that one of our neighbours had got a heavy duty pressure washer out to do some intensive squirting - at the gathering teenagers hopefully - but it turned out to be some thoughtless bas**rds SANDBLASTING over the railway lines with their doors open facing us.

By 7.40pm grumpy went to investigate. Typical, he couldn't hear it over there. Oddly enough he met a man - wearing ear protection - on the bridge who had just come over to see how loud it was over here. He told grumpy they can't do it during the day because of cars in the car park - what rot.

And ... "we've got at least another hour to listen to it", turned out he meant two. It was gone 9.30pm when it stopped.

I've recorded how loud it was on my phone and I watched the thick cloud of sand come across to Bridge Street. Saturday morning we noticed how filthy all the cars were.

Anyhooo, to get back to the nice lady who is wasting her time and efforts on this dump - one thing we forgot to mention was the stupid morons using Asda car park for their Sunday evening entertainment.

Last night was the worst so far. From 8.00pm I thought there were fireworks going off as well as lots of car revving. This went on for well over an hour and my GOM decided he'd go to find out what was happening.

When he finally came back he said there were at least thirty cars on the car park, one had been on fire and two fire engine's were in attendance (ooh, proper reporting mode there). They were TRYING to get hold of the police.

All the trolley bays were full of their 'audience' as it was persisting it down. When grumpy asked what they thought they were doing, the reply he got was "it's a car park and we only come once a week". The gentleman be asked (in his twenties, old enough to know better), had come from Sandiacre so not actually all our home grown tw*ts.

We called into Asda this morning to enquire what they were doing about it  - NOTHING - it's in the hands of the police. When asked if they could have barriers to stop them going on the car park when they're shut, reply - "no because of the petrol station and the ATM machines" ... this - in my opinion - is utter bo**ocks!

Apparently there had been 60-100 cars racing along the A610 to Asda and they were queuing up to get in and out of Langley Mill. We had to wonder how many of these cars were taxed and insured and whether or not the police actually care.

I can't wait to see what next weekend will bring ...

Thursday, 24 November 2011

My Belated Birthday

Oops, I got sidetracked and forgot to publish this post ...

I decided to stay at the tin hut for my birthday this year, rather than coming home and going back to close down for the winter. We won't be doing it again.

I have mentioned in previous ramblings that I love fireworks and fancied seeing them at a different venue. This was not to happen - apart from me venturing out on to the veranda or looking through a window, as I totally forgot how traumatized our cat would be. I hold myself entirely to blame for this oversight ... poor pussy.

At home during the few weeks of lunacy, she sits at the top of the stairs, this is in the centre of the house and she obviously feels safe there. At the caravan she didn't know what to do with herself, it was like being in a war zone with the three houses behind us all having bonfires and fireworks over the weekend. As well as the constant bangs, spent rockets were clattering on the caravan roof. She eventually cowered, trembling under a nest of tables, all we could do was turn the telly up and try to placate her with soothing words ... and tuna fish.

Anyway, why do we have to have bangers going off week after week? What's wrong with doing it all on bonfire night? Pet owners can prepare for a one night event - yeah, yeah, when they don't forget what they're doing and take their cat away - but these days it's endless torture for both pets and wildlife. We never once saw our badgers during the run up to bonfire night, nor since ... although they did eat the nuts, probably in the quieter small hours.

Ranty bit over, on to my birthday:

As I said, I decided before we went to the tin hut - mid October, after Center Parcs - that we'd stay until early/mid November and close up the caravan - I absolutely hate doing that job but have no choice ... unless I want to freeze me bits off - and so, we would be away for my birthday. It didn't matter, it wasn't an important one and I told everyone - or thought I had - that I'd celebrate a week late.

We arrived home on the Wednesday after my birthday ... eventually, as the car decided to throw a few wobblies and has subsequently had surgery with more to follow soon ... getting expensive now, I have had to give it a verbal warning about its days being numbered if it doesn't pull its fan belt up.

Thursday morning:
Blah, the house is a tip, the contents of a caravan to store away, whinge, moan, gripe. Other things to do that were left half done as we never seem to be at home ... mutter, grumble. three inches of dust to rearrange, you'd think my neighbour would have dealt with that ... and she's not been around to water my house-plants since I've been back - I forget that this is now my job.

Obviously no-one will visit in the next two days, I've told all MY family and friends that I'm having my birthday a week late, on the 13th, so the clutter can stay ... well, cluttered for a bit while I decide where it'll go.

Wrong! Two phone calls later, it transpires that the GOM's family will be arriving after school - there's only me to blame. I mean, why should I have expected the same info to have filtered to his side of the family - when I'd told him to tell them - who were keen to give me cards and pressies ASAP.

Oh well, I've got a few hours to make the house look a little less like a charity shop reject skip. Important things - like work - can wait.

Just after a late lunch - we're fairly tidy, in a temporary fashion, but woe betide anyone who attempts to open any cupboard doors in the bedroom or bathroom - I was busy working and could hear grumpy rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. Hmm, I wonder?

'I'm just nipping over to Asda, I fancy a cold drink and we've got no lemonade or J2o's ... um, shall I get some cake while I'm there?' ...
'Yes please, fruit cake.' ... Now this is me being evil, I know full well that he's only going because his family are visiting for my birthday but as I've mentioned before, I like to watch him squirm.
'Er, no ... I thought, um ... chocolate cake??' ...
'No, too sickly, I want fruit cake.'...
'I'll get both' ... Hehehe.

He arrived back a little later, I can hear things being put away in the kitchen, then in he struts, handing me a box of 'Celebrations' ... 'I've bought you these for your birthday.' He lied. He must think I'm thick ...
'Ohh, ta, I'll just hide them before your lot come because I don't want to share 'em' ... hahaha. He squirmed and blustered - victory.

Yes, I am horrible, but I can read him like a book - hard back with few pages and lots of pictures [yeah, Beano annual] - bless him. He only had to tell me what he was really doing instead of trying subterfuge, he's not mentally adept enough for that because - well, he's only a man. Although, now I think about it ... he didn't get me any fruit cake ...