Dialogue: Deaf to the needs of those next door

By JENNY LYNCH*

"Neighbours ... Everybody needs good neighbours ... "

So goes the opening to the theme of the Australian television soap.

Few would argue with the sentiment. Sadly, however, it seems that good neighbours are becoming increasingly rare.

Once they were the norm. That is, if my childhood experience is any guide.

In our street in the 1950s neighbours knew and liked each other. They got together regularly. They exchanged vegetables grown with pride in their quarter-acre sections, or eggs from the chooks in the fowlhouses out the back.

The men sampled home brew made in one neighbour's wash-house (a dicey beverage that evidently called for both desperate thirst and a strong stomach). The women held Friday afternoon get-togethers at which the more gentle Pimms or Horse's Neck were proffered.

Our neighbours watched out for each other. Nobody locked their doors. Co-operation was the rule. When hedges needed cutting the men on either side would arrange a suitable date and do the job together, exchanging news, views and racing tips as they worked their way along.

Children of three of the houses, being of similar age, played with each other. As my family's garden was the biggest, the youngsters most often congregated there. I can still recall the voices of mothers as they summoned their offspring to tea. "Pam! Nine!" "Coo-ee! Coo-ee!"

In the 1950s neighbours were an integral part of life. To have ignored your neighbour would have marked you down as "unfriendly".

Things have changed. Today families are far more mobile. They shift house on average of once every seven years. Many people, specially when both partners work, never see their neighbours. Nor do they particularly want to.

I have lived in my street since the 1970s. Only twice have the occupants of our small cul-de-sac turned out in force - once when the transformer box at the end of the road exploded in a cloud of black smoke and the second time when an apartment block caught fire. Other than those of my immediate neighbours (excellent people, I am happy to say) most of the faces were those of complete strangers.

These days we might not see those who live near us. But we can hear them.

Now when I observe the "for sale" ads in the real estate pages I wonder whether noisy neighbours have prompted some of the moves.

Regardless of where you live in suburban Auckland there has always been some neighbourhood noise - crying children, lawnmowers, traffic or perhaps the odd party. But what was once mild annoyance is now ear-splitting noise pollution.

Stereo systems are prized for their ability to produce mega decibels, with particular emphasis on the bass.

People unfortunate enough to live next to boom-box addicts might not hear the melody of the music being played - in the unlikely event that there is one - but the insistent thud, thud of the bass can penetrate neighbouring walls with the impact of a dentist's drill boring into a tooth.

It seems incredible that with high-density housing increasing there isn't a greater outcry about overloud stereos and the lack of legal redress for those subjected to unwanted sound.

Certainly, modern buildings have noise-inhibiting insulation. But who wants to sit inside with doors and windows tightly shut on a hot summer's night? And, at all events, what right has anyone to inflict his or her musical tastes on the neighbours?

A young couple with toddler who live in a small unit in a street adjacent to mine are devotees of head-banging rock. Night and day the stereo is likely to blast forth. Polite requests to lower the sound have fallen on deaf ears (and they're probably getting deafer by the minute.)

Time and again neighbours have phoned the city council's noise control service to complain.

But the noise control people appear to be toothless tigers. Notices have been served - and ignored. A couple living three doors down from the noisy duo moved out just before Christmas. They couldn't stand the racket any longer.

So what is the answer to this nuisance? Legal avenues aside, it hinges on one little word: Consideration.

Unfortunately, however, consideration for others appears to be in increasingly short supply.

New Zealanders are constantly castigated for their poor driving manners. Road rage is no longer a rarity. Nor is parking rage. Trolley rage (involving queue jumping or impatience at the checkout) has been reported at supermarkets.

Could it be that before long we will have neighbour rage as well?

It makes me long for the old days when neighbours were indeed friends and the loudest sound on the street was the voice of Mrs D. calling "Coo-ee".

* Jenny Lynch is an Auckland writer.