Beady eyes

28th April 2012
Saturday

I saw the dustbin-piped Ford Orion yesterday blaring out its exhaust note as it cut up doughnuts in the mud car park at the recycling bins at the end of my road. He did a few circuits, exited at full reverse lock and pulled up next to a mate in his car, I presume to compare notes.

Being in a secluded spot behind some trees, this particular car park has been used as a rendezvous for young teenage lovers. These night-time excursions appear to be quite innocent and are over quite quickly and one shouldn't imagine scenes that happen in some parts of England. I'm not sure these still occur but there were suburban myths of sordid goings-on a few years ago.

One night a few weeks ago, I was on my way up the exterior stairs when I was distracted by the very load sound of a tractor entering the recycling area. I stopped on my communal landing and looked out across the tennis courts and trees beyond. The ground was still quite deep in snow and the tractor is the preferred mode of winter transport for school kids. The driver maneuvered into position and cut the ignition; the darkness was plunged back into silence for a while. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of a small capacity micro car, the other favoured set of wheels for teenagers, usually girls. The sound is almost like a two-stroke engine but perhaps it is because it is a twin cylinder  The micro car pulled up alongside the tractor and also cut its engine.

...

Now the snow has all but disappeared, the tractors seem to have been left back at the farms and the local school boys have taken their dirt bikes out of winter storage and are blaring around on these. They look fun and are the sensible choice around here given the high proportion of unmade roads.

...

I have seen my neighbour, the keeper of Ginger the cat, on a number of occasions and have shared not much more than a 'Hei'. He avoids eye contact and comes across as shifty and apologetic. He has beady eyes and a goatee beard.

The long goatee is quite popular here among the more manly type of men, it's a viking-cum-biker look and often has a kink in it just below the chin as if it's been tied in a knot.

...


There have been instances where I have been awoken in the middle of the night by a deep throbbing sound of music. The thumping bass notes carry a long distance and lifting my bedroom blind I have found the sound to be emanating from a passing car.

At other times when I have been disturbed from my sleep by the throbbing bass notes of music, I have stood outside my door on the landing trying to determine the source of the sound.

Following the news of a murder in town recently, I am not about to venture out in the middle of the night and bang on someone's door even if this was very much a one-off case. The murderer was a known problem case and in fact both Outi and Annika who I work with had heard of him before. The crime was actually committed in Annika's previous apartment block. The accused had been round at his girlfriend's place drinking when they had run out of booze. They didn't have any money, so they decided to go to her parents' place who occupied an apartment at the end of their row and who owned the block where they lived. When the money or booze they demanded wasn't forthcoming, they battered both the mother and father to death.

Criminal sentences are very liberal in Finland as one would expect and the emphasis is placed on care in the community rather than incarceration. This guy had been placed in prison a number of times so he must have been a special case.

There is a strong feeling among a lot of Finns I have spoken to that the state has got it wrong when it comes to law and order. Sentencing for fraud and other money crimes is harsher than it is for rape and murder and this apparent prioritizing of money over life disturbs people.

...

There are a couple of apartments at the closest end of the adjoining building that are occupied by college-type students who I presume attend the local business school. They have regular get-togethers with their mates and the ground all around in front of their place is covered in fag butts. There is no pattern to their weekly celebrations, as it is as likely to happen on a Tuesday night as it is on a Saturday night.

I'm not angry and I don't feel frustrated for having my sleep disturbed. I haven't gone to knock on anyone's door yet; the mere discovery of where the sound is coming from seems to set my senses at ease. However, a few times I have been unable to discover the source of the music and after a reconnaissance of my surroundings, as usual I have gone back to bed but on these occasions have been unable to get back to sleep.

It's more of a case of being unable to come up with an explanation for the disturbance that wrangles me and this happened again last night. This time though I tried harder to uncover where the culprit was and on finding the truth, I kicked myself when I discovered how stupid I have been.

When standing outside my door in the cold night in my pyjamas at 2 O'clock in the morning, I have presumed that the sound has come from the nearest source of light, which has invariably been the students' digs across the way and while I might have been right, the times when I was unable to verify the source has been when their rooms have been in darkness and I have gone back to bed frustrated.

Last night, the students were quiet so I returned to my bed only to be unable to get back to sleep. I went outside again and this time walked along the outside landing in front of Ginger's place. The lights were on but as they were at my side I had not noticed them before. I can't believe I hadn't checked the most obvious place before - my neighbour. Sure enough as I approached his front door, I could hear the music.

I went back inside and put my ear to the wall and the thumping continued. I picked up my wooden bench and like a battering ram smashed it into the concrete partition wall three times. Almost immediately, the sound stopped and I got back into bed at 2.45 in the morning. Over the next hour or so, the music would come back on but so briefly, it wasn't worth getting out of bed again.

I know why now he has beady eyes and also why he carries this look of guilt and apology on his shifty face. I should have suspected it was him earlier and I realise now that I saw him carrying a crate of beer in through his front door yesterday evening. I feel sorry for him though as there didn't seem to be any evidence that he was sharing his drink and music.

He was on his own drowning out something that he didn't want to remember or deal with. Or perhaps he was just enjoying himself in a way he knew how to. Either way I will have to tell him to find a way of doing this that doesn't infringe on others' liberties and rights and I shall chose to do this in the broad light of day hopefully when he is sober.