I was not eight or nine; we lived in Khrushchev, and my brother and I had a common wall with an apartment from the neighboring entrance. There entered a young, childless couple, who loved the parties with loud music, which lasted for midnight. The equipment they had was powerful, the hearing through the wall was good, and, like apophysis, their musical preferences, as they say now, exploded my unstable brain, raised at the music school at Mozart with Haydn. I am still overwhelmed when I recall all these "malinovki" with "marriage rings" - the "heights of creativity" of the 1970s. Three or four times a week, the one-and-a-half-year-old brother reared at midnight, I didn't sleep, my father went to them a couple of times for a preventive conversation - without a special result... One day my parents were at work, I was doing lessons, the neighbors again reared their monsoon, I hated looking at the rosette, from which the sounds of the ugly poppy were well transmitted, and in addition, it also squeezed with tobacco smoke... and here it came to me! He went up the staircase cage, screwed up the traffic jams, dismantled the roof - for sure! The hole for the socket was made in the iron concrete wall through the neighboring apartment, and from their electrical wiring I was separated only by a hollowly made bump of alabaster, sprinkled from time.

A week later, the neighbors in the apartment began to blow up traffic jams, as soon as they wrapped the equipment to the full power. Moderate noise did not produce this effect. The fact that a small squeeze in the neighboring apartment brought the wires from their socket to themselves into the room and every time they made the music louder, he shortened their wiring, training, like the dogs of Pavlov, in their head, thank God, did not come and, tormented for a couple of weeks, with loud music they bound. And I spit on Haydn with Mozart and recorded in a radio circle.