Henrietta Dubb's Diary - 18
Driven mad by the doof-doof
That's what my youthful neighbour called
it. "Doof - doof". A good description in my view of bass speakers
rocking our suburban life at any time but especially late at night. "Doof
- doof". No more sleep. "Doof - doof". These doof-doof state of
the art stereo-systems drive me insane. Their noise spews over the innocent because
it leaps the walled limits of car and lounge. In these days of
counter-terrorism, most of us will still be recipients of unwanted "doof -
doof - doof" anti-music.
I decided upon some artfully composed
persuasive rhetoric. The local purveyors of "doof -doof" had begun
spoiling my late Friday afternoon quiet. I couldn't hear Haydn's Creation -
"The heaven's are telling!" - and they certainly couldn't. But my
ceiling, floor and walls were resounding with "rolling foaming billows"
to the "doof - doof" gehenna
from 200 metres away.
So over I went, bravely subjecting
myself to the waves of "doof-doof" getting louder and louder the
closer I got.
Knock, knock, knock. No, I was not
tapping my fingers in time to the tune. There was no reply. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
A bleary eyed male opened the door. His
Cascade can balanced between hand and chin as he removed his mobile CD player
ear-phones with the other. His music could accommodate the noise of his two
women companions, gyrating half-clad friends who continued their frenzy to the
macro DOOF-DOOF-DOOF.
I think he knew what I was about to say,
but the females were panicked as he turned the big DOOF-DOOF knob down, just
enough so he could hear me. Doof-doof.
"Point Lonsdale rocks, doesn't
it," I said, smiling, refusing to engage in any shouted conversation.
"But I can't hear my own music because yours is rocking my place. Can you
please turn down the bass? I do want to be able to hear my own music!"
"No problem!" said one the
women, obviously irritated.
"Thanks, thanks a lot!" I said
sincerely.
"No need to be sarcastic,"
came the retort.
"It is a problem," I said
"But thanks for turning it down. Please keep it down."
They did so - to a degree - for all that
night. Only a soft doof-doof-doof could then be heard even as late as
11.30pm when I dozed of. It was not as intrusive as it had been.
But that was two Fridays ago. Now I'm
not so sure. My request had been for a permanent reduction in doof-doof
bass. But the next Friday the "doof-doof-doof" was up there
again, as loud as when they had agreed to turn it down. And it went on - doof-doof-doof
- well into Saturday morning. When I rose at 7.30 I had not slept soundly and
the dawn chorus had been called off. Maybe Creation's angels had shoo-ed the
birds away for a time to keep them from some permanent trauma and protecting
our normal morning chorus. I wouldn't be surprised, but my paranoid weekend
began during that night. I no longer felt at home as I did before the invasion
of a doof-doof into my quiet community.
February
2004 © Henrietta Dubb's Diary, is written and
published by Bruce C Wearne, 29 Lawrence Rd., Point Lonsdale Vic 3225
AUSTRALIA, 61-3-5258-3913. Each entry in the diary may be
photocopied or retransmitted in its entirety but shall not otherwise be
reprinted or transmitted without the publisher's written permission. This
is a project to encourage positive Christian citizenship, the development
of policies and political attitudes that better express our love for God and
our neighbour. Comments welcome to bcwearne@ozemail.com.au Website http://members.ozemail.com.au/~bcwearne/hdd.htm