Right now, it feels like there's a race on between work pressures and noisy neighbours as to which will kill me first.

Work's been intolerable with hardly any respite from pressure, then, and there's always a then, is n't there, I return home to find a cacophony of noise, stamping feet and clapping hands all to the driving rhythm of devotional music.

My flat has never been anything less than a place of misery. In fact the baseline for me has always been unease, barely a fluttering of joy at any time of me living here. There's been leaks, rodents, noise, the gradual disintegration of the flat complex, and of course I remain throughout. I've got to leave before this place nails me.

Where is the strength to come from?