It’s 0730 and I’m sitting on my sofa, sipping a coffee. Courtesy of my neighbours from hell, I’ve been awake since 0530.

Which is not the best start to a Saturday morning.

They came home from clubbing a little after 0500 and – as you do – went straight out into their balcony to continue drinking, smoking and talking gibberish. Their balcony, which looks down right at my bedroom window.

I’ve spent the last couple of hours lying in bed, plotting my revenge. And reading the news, watching YouTube videos about Obsidian and generally not moving. Seeing as Frank had the nerve to go to the gym, I’ve had to get up and make my second cup of coffee myself. Disgraceful!

Anyway, just when I was getting my sleep schedule back on track, it gets derailed by the assholes upstairs. I’ll need a quick nap later this afternoon if I’m to make it through this evening. And I’m supposed to be going to an art show in a few hours, followed by some trawling of shops to get some bits and bobs for our Japan trip – which is rapidly approaching.

I used to think the students upstairs were just oblivious to the impact they’re having on their neighbours. But now that I know they’ve received multiple written warnings from the building’s management company, as well as had neighbours banging on their door at 2am, it’s clear that they simply don’t give a shit.

Apartment life is all about give and take. I can’t just practice piano at 3am, even though on some nights, when insomnia has a grip on my mind, it’s something I would love to do. I don’t do this – just like I don’t run the dishwasher at 4am or pump music out the windows at 5am. Because I’m trying to be vaguely neighbourly.

The assholes upstairs (they’re known as far, far worse in these parts) seem to think the rules of the building don’t apply to them. But worse, they seem to think that the norms of society don’t apply to them. They’re your typical entitled rich kids, whose parents pre-paid a year of rent for them. They have no consideration, no thought of consequences. And they clearly can’t handle their drink.

But I need to balance all this with the fact that I own the home of my dreams, with a view down the Thames that’s to die for. We’ve actually met some other neighbours as a result of their behaviour. And the management company is completely sympathetic to our plight.

They’re renting for a year and won’t be here forever. And maybe the next neighbour they piss off like this will do more than write a rambling blog post about it.

Time for more coffee.