“Neighbours, Should be there for one another. That’s when good neighbours become good friends.”
That song is going to be stuck in your head for the rest of the days – sorry about that. But I found myself humming the infamous Neighbours theme tune all weekend. It wasn’t because I had a flash back of mullets, Scott and Charlene and Paul Robinsons’ very annoying face. It was because our neighbour popped across with some tomato plants he had been growing in his greenhouse. What a lovely thought. I could have embraced him and cried with sheer happiness.
I’m from the school of thought that you should respect your neighbours privacy by totally ignoring them and hiding behind the hedge if there is a chance of them seeing you. I have always just wanted to avoid any recognition that we live in close proximity to another human being. This is probably born from the embarrassment that I suffer from the knowledge that they have probably seen me in my pyjamas and have heard me and Mr C having epic arguments where I have been totally unreasonable and sounded like a toddler throwing a tantrum!
I just find the whole neighbour thing very awkward. Home is your little place where you don’t want to be bothered, right? Having lived in London for a decade it was totally appropriate to ignore the people in the flat next door and bang on the wall if they turned the music up too loud or were being enthusiastic in the bedroom. It was animosity rather than amicable.
Well I have changed. I love my neighbours, Fran & Chris. They are wonderful. Chris gives us tomato plants, Fran looks after our chickens when we go on holiday and their daughter has offered to baby sit. It’s a grown up love thy neighbour thing. We aren’t bossom buddies who just casually walk into each others kitchen and tell each other our deepest fantasies. It is a really nice, healthy, respectful and heart warming neighbourliness.