Dave* is our next door neighbour. Dave lives on the same level as us, in a new build apartment. When we moved in here, Dave's apartment didn't exist. It was just a bunch of scaffolding.
We hear Dave frequently. Like our apartment, his appears to be made of cardboard, with maybe a bit of MDF thrown in for safety reasons. As we've proven in our place, cardboard and MDF can be made to look very stylish, but it's not so great when it comes to the more boring, yet admittedly useful things in life - heating, strength, structure, things like that. Oh, and soundproofing. It's rubbish for soundproofing.I guess that if we hear Dave, he hears us. Although maybe not. Probably only on the weekends actually, when we're up, vacuuming maybe, and he's trying to sleep off his hangover with Terri-or-Sheri-from-last-night. Who he pulled in Fiesta Havana. And will have immense trouble getting rid of later on.
I don't actually know that much about Dave. Or anything, in fact. H1 and I feel like we know him intimately though. We got to know him on Tuesday night, from the hour of 11:30pm onwards, when we were trying to sleep. Dave had a mate around (maybe. Could be that he has a flatmate). They played X-Box. Something with guns. Then they switched that off and turned on the stereo. Ibiza Party Beats Volumes 1, 2, and 3, to get them in the right mood. At this stage they probably heated up a pizza and drank a few more beers. Then they put on their best shirts, slicked back their hair until it could slick no more, decided where to go (Havana, of course, if you're going out in Fulham and you want to pull, but you're not so fussed on who, you're going to Havana), switched off the music, and headed out - to our great, great relief.
Dave has a black leather couch and a very flash sound system. His TV is huge but he's thinking about getting a bigger one. He works for Foxtons and is very proud of the fact. He especially loves his Mini that he gets to drive. Dave is highly satisfied with his life.
Good for him. I'm very satisfied with my life too. And although I wish I didn't hear so much of his life, he probably wishes he didn't hear so much of mine. Such is life in London flats, particularly those made predominantly of cardboard. Dave is probably a very pleasant lad, and should I ever meet him, I shall be sure to let you know.
*Names may have been changed to protect identities, or may have not. H1 and I settled on Dave as we lay awake for an hour and a half on Tuesday night, listening to him and discussing him. Dave seemed to fit, as did everything else. We could be completely wrong, and it could be Sam, who works for Friends of the Earth and has a wormery - but I don't think so. It's Dave. Meet Dave.