I used to live in a basement flat in Brighton, a city notorious for lots of young people who love to party.
The flat directly above mine was rented, with the tenants changing often.
One summer, two young men moved in and immediately had a very loud, very busy party.
That’s fine within reason, but this party was still going at two in the morning on a Sunday night, and we had to be up for work in the morning.
I returned home early from my work trip to surprise my husband. Instead of a warm reception, I found him in the garden, soaking wet and burying…
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