Neighbourhood Watch

We’re going to have new neighbours.  The grumpy old man from next door has gone.  He’d didn’t say goodbye.  But then, being grumpy, he wouldn’t, would he?  Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t hostile or anything like that, we amiably alternated mowing our adjoining front lawns, I fixed his broken fence, he gave us his broken fireguard ‘for the baby.’  He liked to talk to me about cars and thankfully, him being old, he forgot from one time to the next that I know virtually nothing about them.  However over the course of a dozen or so repeated conversations, I became quite an expert on his Renault Clio.  So much so that the last time we talked, I impressed him with my statistical knowledge of its m.p.g. and resale value.  ‘I thought I was the only one who knew details like that’ he said. 

In my own gently senile way, I never knew if his name was Harry or Frank.  I switched each conversation, sometimes mid-sentence, hoping to pick up some subtle signal of recognition or rebuff.  It never came.  Still, he liked to call me “Andrew” so I suppose that’s fair.

He didn’t speak to T at all.  Didn’t even acknowledge her.  That got right up her nose I can tell you.

Now he’s gone.  Moved to sheltered accommodation.  Cleared out by his Eastern European daughter-in-law, her mother, sister and a clutch of small children.  I never saw his sons.  Come to think of it - I hope he wasn’t being robbed.

Comments

[The Boy Who Likes To]

Robbed by Romanians. I bet the Daily Express would love that story about immigrants.

[Ian]

Aha! The "know virtually nothing" about cars eh? That would explain the MG!!! ;-)

[Carlton]

Shut it, Herald Boy.