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I’m not looking forward to summer… because it means my neighbours will open their windows… Not the neighbours above me, I love them, I ring them asking what tune is playing and can they turn it up. No I mean the others. They have a dog. Say no more I hear you say. Not just any dog but a little yippy dog. It comes out to the patio area below my baby’s bedroom to do its toilet, yips loudly usually as I’m just trying to settle her to sleep. The first day they moved in, the first thing I knew I had new neighbours, was this barking dog.... Hours it barked, not a deep loud bark, more a squealing yip. I looked out of my bedroom window and saw a few feet below me in their patio, (you know what these Brighton conversation flats are like) a scrawny little terrier dog. It was the height of summer, 80 degrees; they’d left it no water that I could see. My initial thoughts of throwing it some poisoned steak dissipated into feeling sorry for it. Poor thing. I’m not a dog lover; I don’t see the point of owning a pet. Maybe if I lived in 17th century rural Wales, on a farm maybe I’d get it then. But in a basement flat in Brighton in the naughties, I figure if you need companionship make friends. Seems to me people have pets because pets have to love you, unlike other relationships which require effort. Pets love unconditionally and don’t answer back, a vast improvement on kids and partners! Everything about pets annoys me, the very fact that they will always need feeding and faeces dealing with. At least with kids you know one day they will grow out of all that. What if one day my child wants a cat or dog? Anyway the neighbours eventually came back from watching the world cup, and let him in. Ahh peace. They then had to throw a party to celebrate moving in, spending the whole night on the patio below my room, talking crap, chain smoking fags all of which drift up and into my bedroom (only feet away). It’s summer so we all have our windows open; I get up eventually shouting, “Shut up you selfish bleeping bleep’s”. I didn’t actually say bleep, I used real swear words that started with f and yes the big C. I didn’t care it was 3am, I was 9 months pregnant, I didn’t want to inhale their fag smoke or listen to their shite anymore. I couldn’t go out partying anymore Jesus why should anyone else? Oh and if that wasn’t enough they then had to christen every room, in a way that couples do when they move into a new place. Well so legend goes. Every day for months they’d ‘christen’ the bedroom, okay they’re not christening anymore they’re just rubbing my face in it now. Doing it twice a day every day and not just at bedtime like good law abiding Christians, doing it in the daytime! Gawd. If I can hear them doing that, then I guess they can hear me fart and sing out of tune. Great. Can’t wait for summer….