My neighbors door. Four rockets and over forty minutes of waiting, I've come to know his face (and my fate) rather well.

As we continue to update readers on life in Israel currently under rocket fire, part two of The Algemeiner’s “British girl in Tel Aviv” diary is posted below. Part one can be read here,

I’m noticing a pattern. Each day ends with apprehension, yet when I awake (from those times I’d actually been asleep), I feel glad, surprised even, to find myself in one piece, in my bed – that my night had been undisturbed and that outside looks like holiday. I notice the birds are singing again and my neighbor has even resumed making music on the piano.

I deemed today the day to wash my hair. Flirting with the idea all morning I decided to just go for it. Upon entering under the water, I was reassured that should the siren sound, I would certainly hear it, for I could clearly decipher the sonata from next door. Writing this now, I’m not sure how one relates to the other – but anyway – I did hear the siren, for yes it did sound and yes it was whilst I was washing my hair.

Fortunately I was at the final stage; applying cold water to close the cuticles. For a moment I questioned whether I might just stay there and not address my neighbors in such a state of undress. But I’ve discovered that war is not for the vein hearted.

Code red and funnily enough reaching for my red towel, I wondered whether to put my wet feet into my Four Seasons slippers or Havaianas. I astonished myself that I’d been so silly to lose a precious two seconds from one petty ponder.

The piano stopped and I had an appointment on the third floor. (Thank goodness he wasn’t playing Mozart’s Requiem, I thought!)

Three neighbors, and my heart beating so fast – I realize now, I didn’t even give another thought to the fact I was completely drenched and undressed. For the first time, the entire building actually shook. Nava commented ‘even the cat is scared’. Ten minutes and then we said our goodbyes, strange to hope never to see them again.