With birds chirping and singing, most early mornings are pleasant – a gentle prelude to the day. By mid-morning, however, that peace is abruptly shattered, and I find myself struggling to stay calm – if only to keep my blood pressure in check.
What’s eating at me? Noise. Nerve-wracking, relentless noise that borders on migraine-inducing.
For the past 18 months, we’ve endured the constant din of construction from the property directly across the street. The old house was demolished, replaced by a massive three-storey structure – now nearly complete... almost.
Just as one storm of noise quietens, another begins. A neighbour on the side has started extensive renovations. The drilling, hammering and banging seem endless – continuing for well over a month now.
Even garden maintenance adds to the cacophony. Daily, we have rubbish collectors, recycling trucks, vendors and delivery riders passing through – many with honking or loudspeaker announcements. While disruptive, their presence is fleeting and generally accepted as part of urban life.
But my greatest grievance is the leaf blower – that grating, high-pitched roar that starts as a distant hum and escalates into a full-blown assault on the senses. Around mid-morning, it arrives outside my windows, drowning out the television, conversations, even music. It takes nearly an hour to pass – longer for corner-lot residents like myself. Some days, it returns for an encore after lunch.
This jarring intrusion happens daily, including public holidays – Sundays are the only reprieve. For many residents, the peace-shattering noise lasts an hour. For me, it feels like a drawn-out siege.
If I feel serious irritation – even migraines and low moods – from the infernal roar of the leaf blower, what does it do to the migrant worker operating it? For a pittance, he may lose his hearing. An inequitable trade indeed.
The widespread use of these noisy contraptions deserves serious reconsideration. They blare across parks, gardens, golf courses, residential roads and housing estates – loud, relentless and invasive.
Our neighbourhood is now around 45 years old – my wife and I moved in as young parents, as did many of our neighbours. Today, we’re in our early 80s; most around us are well into their 70s or older, many now empty nesters hoping to live out their retirement in peace.
Some have chosen to sell and return to kampung life, or move into quieter condominium blocks – perhaps in search of the serenity we once had.
Pollution in all forms affects public health. The media rightly focus on plastic, air and water pollution – but noise pollution remains under-acknowledged, though its impact can be equally damaging. Regulators should no longer turn a deaf ear.
In a mature housing area, we can understand and tolerate occasional noise from renovations – these, at least, have an end in sight. But leaf blowing is a perennial disruption, loud and daily, with no reprieve. Surely, there must be a quieter, more efficient solution to keeping our streets clean?
Perhaps this lament is futile – but for now, I must reach again for my blood pressure tablets.
