neighbours

I like awake looking at the moon through my bedroom window and wishing that my Portuguese neighbours would go to bed. It's 2.00am and I can't sleep because they are making even more of a racket than usual. Eventually, I throw open the casement windows and shout into the navy night sky: 'Vous faites trop de bruit. Soyez tranquils!'

I climb back into bed thinking how ironic it is that I came to France seeking peace and a quiet life only to find that I'm living next door to a 24 hour street party. Maybe it's different in Provence but I don't recall anything like this happening to Peter Mayle.