My Neighbor the Drummer

Clara works as a nurse at a big hospital in Birmingham. She works night shifts, so she usually gets home at eight in the morning, has a cup of tea and goes straight to bed. For three years this routine worked perfectly. Then, last month, a new neighbor moved into the flat upstairs.

His name is Ravi, and he is a drummer. Clara discovered this on her first day off, at ten in the morning, when the ceiling started to shake. Boom, boom, crash. He has been practicing almost every day since then, usually between ten and one, which is exactly when Clara needs to sleep.

At first she tried to be patient. She bought earplugs, but they didn't help. She put a pillow over her head. She even tried sleeping on the sofa in the living room, but the sound was the same everywhere. After two weeks without proper sleep, she made a mistake at work: nothing serious, but her manager noticed. "You look exhausted," he said. "You should talk to your neighbor. You can't go on like this."

Clara's friends had different advice. "You must call the council and complain," said one. "You ought to bang on the ceiling with a broom," said another. But Clara didn't want a war with the man upstairs. She had to live under him, after all, and she knew that musicians have to practice.

So on Friday evening she went upstairs with a packet of biscuits and knocked on his door. Ravi was surprised, and a little embarrassed, when she explained the problem. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I had no idea. Nobody told me there was a nurse downstairs. I thought everybody was at work in the morning."

They sat in his kitchen and wrote some house rules together. Ravi doesn't have to stop playing, but he mustn't play before two in the afternoon. On the days when Clara isn't working nights, she sends him a message, and then he can practice whenever he likes. In return, Clara promised not to run the washing machine after ten at night, because Ravi's bedroom is right above it.

The rules have worked for three weeks now. Clara sleeps, Ravi plays, and last Saturday she went to see his band in a pub in the city center. They were really good. She told him so afterwards, and he laughed. "I should play for you more often," he said. "Only after two," Clara answered.