I may have to move after losing my temper and terrifying our new noisy neighbours

So, four months ago, a young couple bought the house attached to my semi in Acton. Unlike my husband and I — who when we bought ours just gave it a lick of paint, took the carpets up, polished the floorboards and moved in —they then proceeded to gut the entire house and build another two floors on to it. Suddenly we had an army of builders next door to us at all times, drilling the hell out of our house.

The noise was unbearable, our house at times seeming actually to vibrate. One day a group of men appeared on our roof, erecting a hideous concrete edifice onto which they were presumably going to attach their loft extension, blocking our sublime view of the sunlit uplands of Acton (OK, this is an exaggeration, but still). Unbelievable.

Months slipped by, the noise showing no signs of abating. Being typically British, I simmered quietly, saying nothing, my resentment reaching its peak on Saturday mornings when at 8am on the dot the never-ending racket would once again begin.

Finally, last month, trying to do some painting with my five-year-old and unable to talk to him over this INCESSANT DRILLING, I worked myself up into a whirling dervish of fury and started yelling like a madwoman at the builders for them to stop immediately. I told them I hated the owners of the house and how appalled I was they had never brought round a box of chocolates or bottle of wine or even a card to apologise and explain what the hell was going on and when our torment would be over.

This was satisfying — and the builders seemed to agree with me, so I demanded the owners’ number and then fired off the kind of text message (“you’re a rude little f***, why don’t you have any manners, I dread having you as neighbours” etc) that feels amazing to send at the time, but later I of course started vaguely, and then absolutely, definitely to regret.

Humiliatingly, the next day I received a most charming text back apologising, then, last Friday, her mother accosted me on the street to say how sorry they were, and how they never thought this would disturb us (this was a tad irritating — do they think we’re all deaf? Whatevs, this encounter was excruciating).

Presents followed — two cases of wine and very thoughtful Lego for my son, which, treacherously, he absolutely loved.

“OK, so the wine is a nice gesture and the Lego is very thoughtful but the whole thing wouldn’t have got this far if only they’d had the courtesy to inform us beforehand,” I said to my husband, James over dinner that night.

Silence.

“Don’t you think?”

“Er... do you know what I’ve just remembered? I think I did discuss it with them the week before the building started. And I think I may have accidentally agreed to them building on our roof.”

“What? WHAT?”

So I wrote them a thank you card for the Lego and the wine, but because their house is a building site I’m not sure whether or not they got it. Apparently they’ve told our other neighbours they are “terrified” of me and obviously if I see either of them in the vicinity I have to wait until they’ve gone to leave or enter my house, meaning I’m now late for everything. The awkwardness is next level. I may have to move over this.

Why Woody feels sorry for Harvey

Holy Moly. Woody Allen, talking to BBC Arabic at the weekend said he was “sad” for “messed up” Harvey Weinstein, and hoped all the fuss would not “lead to a witch hunt atmosphere, a Salem atmosphere, where every guy in an office who winks at a woman is suddenly having to call a lawyer to defend himself. That’s not right either”.

Um, Woody dear, this went a little beyond that.

The two men go back a long way. In 1993 Allen was accused of molesting his adopted daughter, Dylan. Allen has always strenuously denied the allegation, which has never been substantiated, but it somewhat damaged his reputation in Hollywood. When Weinstein agreed to produce Allen’s 1994 film Bullets Over Broadway, it was a lifeline. “Shunned by Hollywood means nothing to Miramax,” Weinstein told the LA Times. “We’re talking about a comic genius.”

Bullets over Broadway went on to be nominated for seven Oscars, and the two men worked together on several other successful films.

“No one ever came to me or told me horror stories with any real seriousness,” Allen told the BBC. “But you do hear a million fanciful rumours all the time. And some turn out to be true and some — many — are just stories about this actress or that actor.”

We all know Hollywood’s fickle, though, and Allen’s loyalty to his old pal wavered extremely quickly

under a torrent of condemnation, most notably from Rose McGowan, one of the women accusing Weinstein of rape, who described Allen as a “vile little worm”.

Allen now says he wants to clarify that he feels sorry for Weinstein because he is “a sad, sick man” and not for any other reason. Okey dokes.

* June Sarpong’s new book Diversify argues the case for the social, moral and economic benefits of diversity, while also exploring how limited we are by social division. Sarpong’s argument is that we’ve all been guilty of some form of discrimination. In her book she provides not only a compelling argument about the cost of lack of diversity, but also interesting ideas on how we can change. Read her piece about it in ES Magazine this Thursday.