Elderly woman and her even more elderly mother lived next door. Terraced houses. Before we had kids.
We heard from the local Council our neighbours had complained we were very noisy. They reported us playing drums all night ... Council man visited, noise metered, found no noise. Neighbours said we'd been sneaky: we'd kept quiet but then started up the drumming again after the Council man left.
Relations went from bad to worse. They would shout at us, knock on walls, ... continued to talk about drums, tom-toms, jungle music ... All night, they said. Kept on at the Council, everyone they could find to listen. "Playing their drum kit last night again! 3 o'clock in the morning!"
Council man came round again to try to mediate. We did not own a drum kit, or any tom-toms. No drums of any kind. We slept all night, tired out ... young early-career teachers, both of us. No drumming. Still the old women complained, complained, moaned, whinged, to us, the Council, other neighbours ...
Then finally, after months of this, one night I was woken by a loud thunderstorm. Tried to get back to sleep. But, wait! I could hear - not very loud, but distinct - the noise of tom-toms being played. I woke my partner. Noise from the back of the house. We put our raincoats on, went out the back. Yes! definitely someone playing drums. Rhythmic tom-tom sounds from next doors' back garden.
I climbed over the fence. Found the source of the noise: below a hole in our neighbours' gutter, an empty upturned paint can. "Patter, patter, patter, tom tom TOM ..." as the rain fell from the broken gutter on to the upturned
empty can.
We told our neighbours. They moved the empty can. An apology? No, they couldn't manage that. Sadly, the older woman died; her daughter left. We also moved on. As soon as we could, got ourselves a little detached house. Neighbours? Best kept at a distance.