The views expressed in today’s column are not necessarily those of our readers.
But I suspect many of my grumpy old men (or women) peers will concur – most of the others at the lower rungs of the generation gap perhaps not.
I’ll express my opinion nevertheless – my utter loathing of the noise pollution one is subjected to wherever you go to pursue some leisurely activity.
Let’s start with sport – rugby in particular.
Remember the days when the spectators filling the rugby stadiums were knowledgeable devotees of the game, quietly following the action and the only noise was the groans when a player fluffed something or cheering when points were scored.
But that has all changed since the hordes who don’t know their looseheads from their tightheads began invading the stands.
Bums on seats bring in money, however, and now it’s all superficial razzmatazz with intellectually starved disc jockeys holding sway, bombarding the crowd’s eardrums and senses with the biggest load of boom-box rubbish imaginable every time the referee blows the whistle at a breakdown point.
It has become so bad that it even encroaches into one’s living room when watching matches on the telly, the comments of the experts drowned out by the background din.
What is this?
Soccer? How anyone can appreciate the so-called beautiful game with tens of thousands of vuvuzelas trumpeting one’s braincells into oblivion, is beyond me.
Restaurants are another bugbear. Some owners are obviously totally confused about the concept of soothing ambient music to enhance a feel-good mood among patrons.
Hard-core rocker that I am, when confronted with shrieking pop “poppies” accompanied by deafening guitar riffs and cutlery shuddering drum and bass beats when out for a peaceful meal, I simply walk out and spend my money elsewhere.
No matter how good the food is, spending the night with fellow diners having to shout out loud to be heard merely incites agitation and a spoilt evening. Goodbye return business.
Then there are the neighbours from hell – the “let’s have a paaarty…” brigade who constantly torment the neigbourhood with their repeated drunken inanities barked into the night to the booming beats of some stunted rap artist.
There is no escape from this plague as noise pollution by-laws are simply ignored and never enforced. Unless you sell up and move on or wait it out until they get kicked out for not paying their rent or bond. This may take time, however.
The same applies to public spaces.
Trying to have a pleasant and quiet picnic in nature with family or friends? Chances are the winner of the Babanango sound-off competition rocks up with his intoxicated chums determined to prove decibels can shake the leaves off trees.
And it serves no purpose asking them politely to be considerate and turn it down. The riffraff will only respond with insults and further cranking up the volume.
I simply don’t understand how it came about that people can no longer have a good time without thundering and irritating noise.
It is obvious one won’t escape this anytime soon – if ever – so perhaps searching for the tranquility of a small, affordable Karoo farm is a good place to start.
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