DAVEY WALLACE
In many ways, the law student library space on level three is a wonderful place. Our own private oasis with comfy cushions, adjustable, ergonomic chairs, lovely wide wooden desks, artful lamp shades and futuristic spinning chairs. There is a studious atmosphere, and less audible talking than you find in most cinemas. We even get a nice view. There is, however, trouble in paradise. And I seem to be the only one bothered by it.
In many ways, the law student library space on level three is a wonderful place. Our own private oasis with comfy cushions, adjustable, ergonomic chairs, lovely wide wooden desks, artful lamp shades and futuristic spinning chairs. There is a studious atmosphere, and less audible talking than you find in most cinemas. We even get a nice view. There is, however, trouble in paradise. And I seem to be the only one bothered by it.
It's that infernal, incessant buzzing. That high pitched squeal. For those of you who may have not noticed – and I applaud your capacity to block out the relentlessly irritating – it is much like the sound of a cricket. A singular, electronic cricket that chirps unpredictably, but with remarkably resilience.
When I'm outside I don't mind crickets making their tune – my garden is their house after all. But when one got stuck inside my living room heater last week, it did not take long for my housemate and I to begin fantasising about its demise. But somehow in the library, an environment of enforced silence, no one seems to notice or care about this torturous sound. If they started pipping music through the library's PA I'm sure everyone would go bananas, yet somehow people tolerate this considerably less melodic imposition.
Twice I have mentioned the buzzing to the good people at the service desk, and neither staff had been made aware of the problem. One accompanied me to the oasis to hear it for himself, and agreed that yes, it is a fundamentally annoying sound. Antithetical to study. He admitted that were he to study there, he would use noise-cancelling headphones. Which made me wonder, is it not of some concern that an individual may require noise-cancelling headphones to study in a silent area? So, two as yet unfruitful requests have been put forth to maintenance about this squealing interference.
I would rather listen to a thousand mobile phone rings or subject myself to a junior school recorder class than be subjected to this insidious squeal for much longer. If it weren't for those damn cushions and that pleasing décor.
When I'm outside I don't mind crickets making their tune – my garden is their house after all. But when one got stuck inside my living room heater last week, it did not take long for my housemate and I to begin fantasising about its demise. But somehow in the library, an environment of enforced silence, no one seems to notice or care about this torturous sound. If they started pipping music through the library's PA I'm sure everyone would go bananas, yet somehow people tolerate this considerably less melodic imposition.
Twice I have mentioned the buzzing to the good people at the service desk, and neither staff had been made aware of the problem. One accompanied me to the oasis to hear it for himself, and agreed that yes, it is a fundamentally annoying sound. Antithetical to study. He admitted that were he to study there, he would use noise-cancelling headphones. Which made me wonder, is it not of some concern that an individual may require noise-cancelling headphones to study in a silent area? So, two as yet unfruitful requests have been put forth to maintenance about this squealing interference.
I would rather listen to a thousand mobile phone rings or subject myself to a junior school recorder class than be subjected to this insidious squeal for much longer. If it weren't for those damn cushions and that pleasing décor.
