9:24 pm. Still hungover from last night's excesses at the Phoenix Artist Club in London, where I was trying (and failing) to match Simon Kavanagh and Andrew McKie beer for beer. It's a well known fact that literary agents and journalists have a highly developed booze-gland which dampens the effects of alcohol. Sadly my own booze-gland was removed several years ago after a freak knitting accident, and so I was woefully unable to keep pace with them.
I vaguely remember snippets of conversation about the Welsh and about Doctor Who, and that for some reason I was utterly convinced that 17 x 9 = 161. Everything else is a blur.
Some news: Joe Gordon from Forbidden Planet kindly asked me to contribute to the What the Author Says feature on his blog. And he's said some very nice things about Scar Night too.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Sunday, June 25, 2006
High-voltage UFO experiments for all the family
There's a lot of cool-yet-weird science from last century being re-explored and implemented by hobbyists at the moment. One interesting bit of low-tech wizardry is known as the Biefield-Brown effect. In 1928 Thomas Townsend Brown and Dr Paul Alfred Biefeld discovered that when a high voltage (>20kV) is applied to an asymmetrical capacitor, the capacitor becomes an electrohydrodynamic thruster: in other words, a "really cool flying saucer type of thingy".
These "lifters" -- simple craft constructed from aluminium foil, balsa wood, and copper wire -- have no moving parts, but they can fly. Some hobbyists claim that this is due to an electrogravitic effect, although ionic propulsion seems more likely. To date, there have been more than 300 of these lifters constructed worldwide.
Whatever the cause, the effect is undeniably cool (if you're a geek like me). Here is the site for all your super dangerous high-voltage UFO experiments:
Lifters
Searches on this same site reveal more curious stuff...
In 1991 a Frenchman, Jean-Claude Lafforgue, patented something which appears, at first glance, to be similar -- another asymmetrical capacitor which experiences thrust under high voltages. This time, however, yer tinfoil spaceship engine is enclosed in epoxy resin and mylar sheets, so there's no contact with the surrounding air. Apparently, the thrust is produced by electrostatic forces.
Lafforgue Effect
So if this actually works, I'm thinking, could you produce massive arrays of these things? And if you can buy a dinky little transformer like the one I saw on Ebay the other day which converts the 3v from two AA batteries to 30,000 volts, could you build a little remote-control flying saucer which would carry its own power source? Hmm... Who knows? This is more of a leap of the imagination rather than any practical evaluation of the technology, but I have no intention of letting something as mundane as physics get in the way of my daydream. Imagine, then, that you could build a big flying saucer?
It would have to be saucer-shaped, of course -- built in somebody's garage, given a silvery finish and stacked with pulsing super-bright LEDs to give it that other-worldly feel. A CD played in a stereo could produce the required alien hum. Flights would have to be conducted by night, obviously -- sorties into the most remote parts of the countryside. The crew could wear flashy suits and rubber bug-eye masks for when they emerge from the dry-ice wreathed hatch to make clicking noises at terrified local farmers. All in all, endless fun.
These "lifters" -- simple craft constructed from aluminium foil, balsa wood, and copper wire -- have no moving parts, but they can fly. Some hobbyists claim that this is due to an electrogravitic effect, although ionic propulsion seems more likely. To date, there have been more than 300 of these lifters constructed worldwide.
Whatever the cause, the effect is undeniably cool (if you're a geek like me). Here is the site for all your super dangerous high-voltage UFO experiments:
Lifters
Searches on this same site reveal more curious stuff...
In 1991 a Frenchman, Jean-Claude Lafforgue, patented something which appears, at first glance, to be similar -- another asymmetrical capacitor which experiences thrust under high voltages. This time, however, yer tinfoil spaceship engine is enclosed in epoxy resin and mylar sheets, so there's no contact with the surrounding air. Apparently, the thrust is produced by electrostatic forces.
Lafforgue Effect
So if this actually works, I'm thinking, could you produce massive arrays of these things? And if you can buy a dinky little transformer like the one I saw on Ebay the other day which converts the 3v from two AA batteries to 30,000 volts, could you build a little remote-control flying saucer which would carry its own power source? Hmm... Who knows? This is more of a leap of the imagination rather than any practical evaluation of the technology, but I have no intention of letting something as mundane as physics get in the way of my daydream. Imagine, then, that you could build a big flying saucer?
It would have to be saucer-shaped, of course -- built in somebody's garage, given a silvery finish and stacked with pulsing super-bright LEDs to give it that other-worldly feel. A CD played in a stereo could produce the required alien hum. Flights would have to be conducted by night, obviously -- sorties into the most remote parts of the countryside. The crew could wear flashy suits and rubber bug-eye masks for when they emerge from the dry-ice wreathed hatch to make clicking noises at terrified local farmers. All in all, endless fun.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Bulwer-Lytton
They say it's important for first-time novelists to score a few publishing credits for shorter work before approaching an agent or publisher with the Big Book. Clearly this is good advice: it isn't any easier to sell a story to a professional market than it is to sell a novel. Now, I'm not really a short story kinda guy, but I did write one very short piece before my own book sold. This became my one and only writing credit when it was chosen as a category winner in a worldwide literary competition.
And I'm proud to say that this was a bad writing contest.
I was reminded of this a few days ago when I answered a Q & A thing for MacMillan. One of the questions was: How did the world of Deepgate and the characters within come about?
I hadn't thought about this until that moment, but when I considered the question it became clear that the entire book grew around one character -- a character who evolved from one sentence:
"He carried her with the confidence of a man used to finding his way in darkness."
This was originally the first line of the book (although as the manuscript took shape, it became the start of the second chapter.) Back then, I thought this would be a decent first sentence to begin the story with because it establishes Point of View, tells the reader a little about the character (ok... tells rather than shows, but the scene is from this guy's POV, so gimme a break). It also suggests the scene is dark (though not necessarily "stormy" -- more on this later), while posing a couple of questions. Who is this guy carrying? Why? Well, that was the idea. Whether it works or not is not up to me to say.
The first sentence of any book is important -- you want the reader to read on. Mine changed to one which I hope sets the scene and mood -- again, it's up to others judge its success (I can hardly comment, can I?)
This brings me back to my one and only writing credit prior to Scar Night. I didn't win the Grand Prize, but I did win the "Detective" category of the 2003 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. This contest, the brainchild of Professor Scott Rice of the San Jose State University English Department, is sometimes called the "It was a dark and stormy night" competition. In the spirit of Edward Bulwer-Lytton, the English novelist who first penned that immortal phrase, the idea is to come up with the worst possible opening line to a fictitious novel. Forget about style and grammar and all that stuff, what's needed here is writing bad enough to make your eyes bleed.
The official deadline for entries is April the 15th, but the actual deadline may be as late as June 30th, so there might still be time to submit to this year's contest.
Oddly enough, my current career as a writer is probably a direct result of my submission to this competition. An old friend from university who didn't know I was interested in writing spotted my Bulwer-Lytton sentence on the web. He contacted me, and I ended up joining his writers' group in Edinburgh. Without their help and encouragement, I don't know if I would have finished my book. Funny how life works out like that.
To celebrate my road from "A dark and stormy night" to "Scar Night" (aren't these parallels just getting creepy?) and at the risk of making my editors on both sides of the Atlantic squirm in horror, I'll post my winning entry here in all its hideous glory.
Detective Inspector Mike Norman slipped six fingers into his overcoat pocket, five of them clad in a latex glove and attached to his palm, while the sixth was wrapped in a plastic evidence bag and apparently belonged to the kidnapped pianist Ricardo Moore, or, as it now seemed likely, the kidnapped ex-pianist Ricardo Moore.
Now I'm just going off to check the first sentence of Scar Night again... I don't think I used the word "stormy". God... please don't let that word be there.
And I'm proud to say that this was a bad writing contest.
I was reminded of this a few days ago when I answered a Q & A thing for MacMillan. One of the questions was: How did the world of Deepgate and the characters within come about?
I hadn't thought about this until that moment, but when I considered the question it became clear that the entire book grew around one character -- a character who evolved from one sentence:
"He carried her with the confidence of a man used to finding his way in darkness."
This was originally the first line of the book (although as the manuscript took shape, it became the start of the second chapter.) Back then, I thought this would be a decent first sentence to begin the story with because it establishes Point of View, tells the reader a little about the character (ok... tells rather than shows, but the scene is from this guy's POV, so gimme a break). It also suggests the scene is dark (though not necessarily "stormy" -- more on this later), while posing a couple of questions. Who is this guy carrying? Why? Well, that was the idea. Whether it works or not is not up to me to say.
The first sentence of any book is important -- you want the reader to read on. Mine changed to one which I hope sets the scene and mood -- again, it's up to others judge its success (I can hardly comment, can I?)
This brings me back to my one and only writing credit prior to Scar Night. I didn't win the Grand Prize, but I did win the "Detective" category of the 2003 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. This contest, the brainchild of Professor Scott Rice of the San Jose State University English Department, is sometimes called the "It was a dark and stormy night" competition. In the spirit of Edward Bulwer-Lytton, the English novelist who first penned that immortal phrase, the idea is to come up with the worst possible opening line to a fictitious novel. Forget about style and grammar and all that stuff, what's needed here is writing bad enough to make your eyes bleed.
The official deadline for entries is April the 15th, but the actual deadline may be as late as June 30th, so there might still be time to submit to this year's contest.
Oddly enough, my current career as a writer is probably a direct result of my submission to this competition. An old friend from university who didn't know I was interested in writing spotted my Bulwer-Lytton sentence on the web. He contacted me, and I ended up joining his writers' group in Edinburgh. Without their help and encouragement, I don't know if I would have finished my book. Funny how life works out like that.
To celebrate my road from "A dark and stormy night" to "Scar Night" (aren't these parallels just getting creepy?) and at the risk of making my editors on both sides of the Atlantic squirm in horror, I'll post my winning entry here in all its hideous glory.
Detective Inspector Mike Norman slipped six fingers into his overcoat pocket, five of them clad in a latex glove and attached to his palm, while the sixth was wrapped in a plastic evidence bag and apparently belonged to the kidnapped pianist Ricardo Moore, or, as it now seemed likely, the kidnapped ex-pianist Ricardo Moore.
Now I'm just going off to check the first sentence of Scar Night again... I don't think I used the word "stormy". God... please don't let that word be there.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Alright, this blog is beginning to look like a shop window display, what with all the copies of the book cover everywhere. Time for another post, I think.
So what's been happening? I've finally figured out the ending of Book Two -- it's not yet written, mind you, but at least I know how the story finishes and how this will tie in with my plans for Book Three. Of course I'm still mulling over the title of Book Two, which has changed twice already, and probably will again. Titles seem to be easier to come up with after the book has been finished, at least for me.
What else? My copy of Scott Lynch's book, The Lies of Locke Lamora, arrived this week. From what I've read already, it's absolutely fab. Scott has already sold the film rights for his book, which is a wonderful achievement. I'll be going to see that film.
It's the dream of course, isn't it? I imagine every author has thought about this, and I'm no exception. Well... you would, wouldn't you?
My girlfriend and I were talking about this the other night over a glass of wine. It's fun to imagine which actors might play your characters (if I ever meet Scott, I'd like ask him who he envisages playing Locke Lamora).
Unfortunately, my girlfriend and I can't agree on which actor we'd like to see play which character if my own book was ever made into a film. The problem boils down to four central characters, two guys and two girls.
My girlfriend thinks the following people would be extremely suited to these roles.
For the guys: Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp,
For the girls: Anne Widdecombe and Anne Widdecombe.
Eh? Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp don't look anything like my characters, while Anne Widdecombe isn't even an actress. My girlfriend's choice makes no sense whatsoever. Besides how is Anne Widdecombe supposed to play two roles in the same scene?
CGI, apparently.
Well, I happen to think that Salma Hayek and Helena Bonham Carter would be far more suitable candidates for the female characters. They are both fine actresses. And, as we were allowed to select politicians in this imaginary casting game, I proposed John Prescott to play both male characters. I think CGI could work well in this instance.
My partner wasn't having this at all. So now we're at an impasse.
Back to work for me.
So what's been happening? I've finally figured out the ending of Book Two -- it's not yet written, mind you, but at least I know how the story finishes and how this will tie in with my plans for Book Three. Of course I'm still mulling over the title of Book Two, which has changed twice already, and probably will again. Titles seem to be easier to come up with after the book has been finished, at least for me.
What else? My copy of Scott Lynch's book, The Lies of Locke Lamora, arrived this week. From what I've read already, it's absolutely fab. Scott has already sold the film rights for his book, which is a wonderful achievement. I'll be going to see that film.
It's the dream of course, isn't it? I imagine every author has thought about this, and I'm no exception. Well... you would, wouldn't you?
My girlfriend and I were talking about this the other night over a glass of wine. It's fun to imagine which actors might play your characters (if I ever meet Scott, I'd like ask him who he envisages playing Locke Lamora).
Unfortunately, my girlfriend and I can't agree on which actor we'd like to see play which character if my own book was ever made into a film. The problem boils down to four central characters, two guys and two girls.
My girlfriend thinks the following people would be extremely suited to these roles.
For the guys: Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp,
For the girls: Anne Widdecombe and Anne Widdecombe.
Eh? Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp don't look anything like my characters, while Anne Widdecombe isn't even an actress. My girlfriend's choice makes no sense whatsoever. Besides how is Anne Widdecombe supposed to play two roles in the same scene?
CGI, apparently.
Well, I happen to think that Salma Hayek and Helena Bonham Carter would be far more suitable candidates for the female characters. They are both fine actresses. And, as we were allowed to select politicians in this imaginary casting game, I proposed John Prescott to play both male characters. I think CGI could work well in this instance.
My partner wasn't having this at all. So now we're at an impasse.
Back to work for me.
Monday, June 12, 2006
First Copies
Christmas came early today. I was just heading back from the shop when I spotted this courier guy with a big cardboard box asking a neighbour of mine for directions. Before I knew it, I was running towards him. And sure enough... the box was from MacMillan and full of books just like these.
What a wonderful - if slightly odd - feeling. After such a long time and so much hard work, there's something strange about seeing your work there, in front of you, all nicely bound with dustjacket and neat numbered pages. Just like a real book...
Very odd. I can no longer change a word if I feel like it. (Not that I haven't changed them all around plenty of times already, then put them all back again.)
Now it has to go off out into the real world. Hopefully I'll bump into it again a few times.
What a wonderful - if slightly odd - feeling. After such a long time and so much hard work, there's something strange about seeing your work there, in front of you, all nicely bound with dustjacket and neat numbered pages. Just like a real book...
Very odd. I can no longer change a word if I feel like it. (Not that I haven't changed them all around plenty of times already, then put them all back again.)
Now it has to go off out into the real world. Hopefully I'll bump into it again a few times.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
The word BLURB should sound nicer than it does
My people-I-owe-a-drink-to list has increased thanks to Neal Asher and Scott Lynch, who have given another couple of wonderful quotes for Scar Night.
"Alan Campbell's world-building here is superb and I thoroughly relished this book. He has maintained consistent internal logic throughout while coming up with some wonderfully grotesque ideas (the soft men!) and delivering a thumping good read... I haven't read a fantasy this good in years -- it is utterly marvellous." NEAL ASHER , author of The Voyage of the Sable Keech and Gridlinked among others.
"Strong, slyly written, and very assured...Campbell mingles action and atmosphere with the grace of a seasoned pro. A fantasist to pay attention to."
SCOTT LYNCH, author of The Lies of Locke Lamora.
My sincere thanks to both of you.
"Alan Campbell's world-building here is superb and I thoroughly relished this book. He has maintained consistent internal logic throughout while coming up with some wonderfully grotesque ideas (the soft men!) and delivering a thumping good read... I haven't read a fantasy this good in years -- it is utterly marvellous." NEAL ASHER , author of The Voyage of the Sable Keech and Gridlinked among others.
"Strong, slyly written, and very assured...Campbell mingles action and atmosphere with the grace of a seasoned pro. A fantasist to pay attention to."
SCOTT LYNCH, author of The Lies of Locke Lamora.
My sincere thanks to both of you.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Blurb Time Again
Many thanks to Trudi Canavan and Greg Keyes for reading Scar Night and giving me another couple of great blurbs (parts of which are now up on Amazon).
“A visually rich, satisfyingly dark tale of a city of chains, ancient bloodlust and unshakeable loyalty.”
TRUDI CANAVAN, author of The Black Magician Trilogy and the Age of the Five Trilogy
“A book really has to compel me – and right away – for me to finish it. SCAR NIGHT did that.
The setting is richly imagined, full of the sort of detail that really makes it feel real, like someone's home – but at the same time, the entire topography is permeated with mystery that itches for discovery. I want an airship so I can explore it, see what is beyond the deserts and down the rivers.
Alan Campbell's characters are the sort I love to meet in fiction – complex, interesting, able to escape easy categorization. Most of them surprised me pleasantly (though often not by *being* pleasant) every few turns of the page.
I felt caught in Deepgate's chains immediately – but the action and suspense were nail-biting. An exciting and well-balanced book – hopefully the first of many by Mr. Campbell.”
GREG KEYES, author of The Charnel Prince
While I'm in book-plugging mode and trying to convince myself that this sort of shameful self-pimping is actually a necessary evil if I'm to make any kind of dent in our Council Tax bills, I'll post the previous blurbs from Hal Duncan, Sharon Shinn and Sarah Ash, which for some reason haven't made it to Amazon.
“With undead armies, psychotic angels and exploding airships, SCAR NIGHT is a gripping, ripping yarn which rattles along at a great pace. Tether all that to the knock-out image at the heart of the novel -- Deepgate, a Gothic city built on a network of chains over a great abyss -- and you have urban fantasy at its best.”
HAL DUNCAN, author of Vellum
"A chain-wrapped industrial city so real you can feel the iron and smell the fumes – and a violent tale told in murderously beautiful prose."
SHARON SHINN, author of Archangel
"Vividly imagined, visceral and intensely involving...a stunning debut. I can’t wait to see what follows in the next volume."
SARAH ASH, author of the Tears of Artamon series
And finally, cheers to my mate, Barney, for his contribution.
"I'd BETTER get a dedication! I spent months poring over that piece of crap. A dedication's the LEAST you can do. A decent share of the profits would be more like it."
BARNEY.
“A visually rich, satisfyingly dark tale of a city of chains, ancient bloodlust and unshakeable loyalty.”
TRUDI CANAVAN, author of The Black Magician Trilogy and the Age of the Five Trilogy
“A book really has to compel me – and right away – for me to finish it. SCAR NIGHT did that.
The setting is richly imagined, full of the sort of detail that really makes it feel real, like someone's home – but at the same time, the entire topography is permeated with mystery that itches for discovery. I want an airship so I can explore it, see what is beyond the deserts and down the rivers.
Alan Campbell's characters are the sort I love to meet in fiction – complex, interesting, able to escape easy categorization. Most of them surprised me pleasantly (though often not by *being* pleasant) every few turns of the page.
I felt caught in Deepgate's chains immediately – but the action and suspense were nail-biting. An exciting and well-balanced book – hopefully the first of many by Mr. Campbell.”
GREG KEYES, author of The Charnel Prince
While I'm in book-plugging mode and trying to convince myself that this sort of shameful self-pimping is actually a necessary evil if I'm to make any kind of dent in our Council Tax bills, I'll post the previous blurbs from Hal Duncan, Sharon Shinn and Sarah Ash, which for some reason haven't made it to Amazon.
“With undead armies, psychotic angels and exploding airships, SCAR NIGHT is a gripping, ripping yarn which rattles along at a great pace. Tether all that to the knock-out image at the heart of the novel -- Deepgate, a Gothic city built on a network of chains over a great abyss -- and you have urban fantasy at its best.”
HAL DUNCAN, author of Vellum
"A chain-wrapped industrial city so real you can feel the iron and smell the fumes – and a violent tale told in murderously beautiful prose."
SHARON SHINN, author of Archangel
"Vividly imagined, visceral and intensely involving...a stunning debut. I can’t wait to see what follows in the next volume."
SARAH ASH, author of the Tears of Artamon series
And finally, cheers to my mate, Barney, for his contribution.
"I'd BETTER get a dedication! I spent months poring over that piece of crap. A dedication's the LEAST you can do. A decent share of the profits would be more like it."
BARNEY.
Friday, June 02, 2006
No Comment
An unusual note from our downstairs neighbour popped through our letterbox this morning. To put it in perspective, I need to provide some background first. This is not a rant, I promise. Well... ok, it is (and is therefore of absolutely no interest to anybody reading this).
When my girlfriend and I moved into our flat a couple of months ago we discovered that the previous owner, Mr S, had left us a few little surprises.
I'm in the door five minutes before I turn on the kitchen tap and thereby flood the kitchen.
Mr S had removed the washing machine he'd told us he was leaving, gutting the plumbing under the sink in the process. He had neglected to warn us.
Fine.
A trip to Robert Boa's the Ironmongers sorted that one out.
Mr S also neglected to tell us that the bath had holes in it. Holes. Dirty great big fekking holes filled with splodges of white filler so I didn't notice them at first.
So we flooded our downstairs neighbour.
I don't like DIY. I'd rather things like plumbing problems just went away on their own. But sadly they don't, and I'll be damned if I'm going to pay some guy to come in and do it for me. It's a bloke thing.
Anyway, I didn't see the holes at first and the bath was leaking from the overflow pipe so I ripped out all the bath side panels and replaced the whole overflow thingy and felt pretty pleased with myself like guys always do when we've done something manly.
Problem solved. Until we flooded our downstairs neighbour a second time.
So Alan the plumber had another go. This time I changed the trap under the bath, and all the little curvy tubes and felt really pleased with myself. It all looked very spiffy. Of course the holes were still there, but what the hell do I know about plumbing?
When our neighbour complained that we'd flooded her flat for the third time, I think I sensed a hint of irritation from her. It's not difficult to understand why.
Finally, I discovered the holes. So off I went to B & Q to buy a new bath.
Three days later this was the result of my efforts.
But the leak was gone. Groovy. Our poor long-suffering neighbour had nothing more to worry about. She'd finally get some peace from us.
Yeah. Right. When is life ever that simple?
When it comes to noise, my partner and I try to be considerate -- we don't play loud music or have raucous parties. We don't wear shoes inside and we rarely watch TV. However, moving from one part of our flat to another inevitably involves some sort of walking. And creaking floorboards became the next problem.
After our neighbour's patience and, it has to be said, persistently friendly demeanour in the face of unexpected leaks caused by the folks upstairs, I was determined to sort this problem out.
There appeared to be two possible solutions: rip up the carpet and floorboards and put down some soundproofing or walk everywhere in a kind of carefully measured shuffle while avoiding known creak-spots. I'm supposed to be writing another book and I don't have time for upheavals, so we opted for the shuffle/avoidance tactic.
To date, this appears to have worked. Walking around the flat now involves a degree of planning (there are out-of-bound areas on the carpet and the kitchen must be traversed without raising heel or toe from the laminate floor) but it's a small price to pay to keep the peace.
Which brings me this morning's letter...
We've had another complaint. Noise from taps. The sound of water falling from our taps and striking the basin is keeping her awake now. And, frankly, I'm at a loss. She has helpfully suggested partially closing the stop-cock to lower water pressure, but I've done this and it doesn't seem to make the slightest difference until the water is completely off. And that's no good.
I'd appreciate any suggestions...
When my girlfriend and I moved into our flat a couple of months ago we discovered that the previous owner, Mr S, had left us a few little surprises.
I'm in the door five minutes before I turn on the kitchen tap and thereby flood the kitchen.
Mr S had removed the washing machine he'd told us he was leaving, gutting the plumbing under the sink in the process. He had neglected to warn us.
Fine.
A trip to Robert Boa's the Ironmongers sorted that one out.
Mr S also neglected to tell us that the bath had holes in it. Holes. Dirty great big fekking holes filled with splodges of white filler so I didn't notice them at first.
So we flooded our downstairs neighbour.
I don't like DIY. I'd rather things like plumbing problems just went away on their own. But sadly they don't, and I'll be damned if I'm going to pay some guy to come in and do it for me. It's a bloke thing.
Anyway, I didn't see the holes at first and the bath was leaking from the overflow pipe so I ripped out all the bath side panels and replaced the whole overflow thingy and felt pretty pleased with myself like guys always do when we've done something manly.
Problem solved. Until we flooded our downstairs neighbour a second time.
So Alan the plumber had another go. This time I changed the trap under the bath, and all the little curvy tubes and felt really pleased with myself. It all looked very spiffy. Of course the holes were still there, but what the hell do I know about plumbing?
When our neighbour complained that we'd flooded her flat for the third time, I think I sensed a hint of irritation from her. It's not difficult to understand why.
Finally, I discovered the holes. So off I went to B & Q to buy a new bath.
Three days later this was the result of my efforts.
But the leak was gone. Groovy. Our poor long-suffering neighbour had nothing more to worry about. She'd finally get some peace from us.
Yeah. Right. When is life ever that simple?
When it comes to noise, my partner and I try to be considerate -- we don't play loud music or have raucous parties. We don't wear shoes inside and we rarely watch TV. However, moving from one part of our flat to another inevitably involves some sort of walking. And creaking floorboards became the next problem.
After our neighbour's patience and, it has to be said, persistently friendly demeanour in the face of unexpected leaks caused by the folks upstairs, I was determined to sort this problem out.
There appeared to be two possible solutions: rip up the carpet and floorboards and put down some soundproofing or walk everywhere in a kind of carefully measured shuffle while avoiding known creak-spots. I'm supposed to be writing another book and I don't have time for upheavals, so we opted for the shuffle/avoidance tactic.
To date, this appears to have worked. Walking around the flat now involves a degree of planning (there are out-of-bound areas on the carpet and the kitchen must be traversed without raising heel or toe from the laminate floor) but it's a small price to pay to keep the peace.
Which brings me this morning's letter...
We've had another complaint. Noise from taps. The sound of water falling from our taps and striking the basin is keeping her awake now. And, frankly, I'm at a loss. She has helpfully suggested partially closing the stop-cock to lower water pressure, but I've done this and it doesn't seem to make the slightest difference until the water is completely off. And that's no good.
I'd appreciate any suggestions...
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