To say that we live in dif­fi­cult times is to min­imise the chal­lenges each and every­one of us faces on a dai­ly ba­sis.

From vi­ral pan­demics lead­ing to bro­ken economies, which has giv­en rise to a huge num­ber of us strug­gling to feed our fam­i­lies. We then still have to deal with pot­holed roads and de­mon dri­vers and face the frus­tra­tions of try­ing to ac­cess ser­vices from gov­ern­ment, banks, in­sur­ance com­pa­nies, doc­tors and build­ing con­trac­tors while home school­ing the chil­dren and find­ing time to ex­er­cise and so­cialise as safe­ly as hu­man­ly pos­si­ble.

While the above list of dai­ly chal­lenges and frus­tra­tions is by no means com­pre­hen­sive,it gives you some idea of the weight of ex­pec­ta­tion each and every­one of us lives with con­stant­ly.

So, when we ar­rive home from an­oth­er dai­ly ex­am­i­na­tion of our in­testi­nal and men­tal for­ti­tude, a peace­ful and calm­ing en­vi­ron­ment is of the ut­most im­por­tance to any num­ber of us. There­fore, the days and nights of hav­ing to grin and bear ex­ces­sive­ly loud mu­sic com­ing from our neigh­bours has to come to an end.

Where I live in Mo­ka, there are squat­ters near­ly a mile away on the North Coast Road, who con­stant­ly play un­bear­ably loud mu­sic, at any time of the day and night. We al­so have a lover of re­li­gious mu­sic in Per­se­ver­ance who of­ten pumps up their vol­ume at the break of day.

Don’t get me wrong, I am hap­py for you to en­joy the mu­sic of your choice, but you must not in­dulge in it at the ex­pense of your neigh­bours.

Gre­go­ry Wight

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