Neighbours

Where I grew up, we didn’t really have neighbours. It was in the city but it was mostly college property near us rather than other families. Now I live on a street with lots of neighbours. Mr. Waffle is pretty sociable but I am still adjusting to this state of affairs.

We had a very neighbour-filled weekend. There was the street clean up which my loving husband co-ordinates (“Doing the council’s job for them,” he mutters darkly).

Our next door neighbours’ daughter is an artist and she did an amazing mural on the wall outside the garage. We had a small ceremony with crisps and champagne in the lane to celebrate.

Our neighbours two doors down have just celebrated 50 years of marriage and 48 years on the road. They had 16 of us around to celebrate. No caterers either. We were by far the most recent arrivals (10 years on the road). Most people had at least 20 years and our neighbour from across the road was born on the road and has been living here 71 years. When I mentioned that to Dan he was astounded, “He’s 71? I thought he was the same age as you.” He is in very good nick but still.

Anyhow, I feel very filled up with neighbourly goodwill this week. Perhaps I am beginning to get the hang of the neighbour thing.