Noise, I f**king hate it. Anything overtly loud really boils my blood and if there’s one thing that guarantees mental implosion, it’s a siren. Sirens - whether they are emitted from a Police car, ambulance or fire engine - are destroying my very existence in this farcical, reality facade we all have to dwell within, although my life is made immeasurably more depressing because I live in a first-floor flat ten yards adjacent to a main road. This means I’m continually bombarded by a cacophony of ear-splitting alarms at all hours, regardless of decorum or respect for the sleeping masses strung along the two mile stretch of Rochdale road that runs from my abode to the Royal Oldham hospital. Also, being placed just a couple of hundred yards away from a major four-way junction makes things even harder still, as all emergency vehicles blast out their warnings as they accelerate towards any potential blockage with their blue neon lights flashing and their electronic horns wailing, oblivious to all and sundry.
