Tuesday, 17 June 2014


Today marks the fourteenth anniversary of my moving away from the noise and lousy neighbours of Edmonton. After much prayer, I put a bid on a house in Radway. By God's grace, I've had more than just a quiet place to live. This home has been my sanctuary from the dread of what inconsiderate neighbours would do next.

Back in 1993, a family of churlish people moved next door to the house I had bought in Edmonton. Whenever I complained about their dogs and their sun inviting noisy kids over, they became increasingly hostile. Because of the two years of constant tension and worry of what stupid stunt they'd pull next, I decided to sell my bungalow and move to a condominium. From what I heard, they had strict rules about dogs and noise.

Was I ever in for a rude awakening. The cars in the parking lot were close to each unit and their noise as they warmed up drove me mad each morning. The rumble of traffic from two main thoroughfares also grated on my nerves. Even the furnace bothered me. When it ran, it sent a loud hum through the entire unit.

One of the condo owners was an amateur mechanic. I often had to listen to him revving car engines as I tried to concentrate on my freelance writing. This man became hostile when I suggested he stop repairing cars and turn down their radios as he worked. The condo board president was of little help in convincing him to stop too.

I thought going back to renting would be a good idea as apartments for adults have strict rules against noise. I was horribly mistaken. The high rise apartment building  vibrated like a tuning fork with every car which drove past it. Furthermore, the apartments were being sold as condos. This meant that the new owners were renovating their new homes day in and day out.

Moving to the main floor of a rental house didn't help me find a quiet place to write either. The next door neighbours ran a tow truck company from their home. Large diesel vehicles often vibrated the house from one end to another as their owners ate supper or lounged around at home. Those tow truck owners became huffy when I asked them to turn down the loud music in their backyard and when I complained to the bylaw officer about their monstrously-big flat bed truck.

What a wonderful change it was for me when I moved to Radway. This house I bought is on the edge of town and I have no close neighbours. I'm across the tracks from the hamlet and there's a farmer's field behind me. Apart from magpies in the warmer weather, I'm not bothered by much anymore. Writing is so much more pleasant now that I have the solitude and the peaceful surroundings to inspire me.

I wrote in more detail about this wondrous gift of God to me in How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. It's for sale at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm Publishers.

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