Good Neighbours
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I walk my neighbour’s dog for her as she can’t walk too far herself – that’s the neighbour now, not the dog. I once clambered through an open bedroom window after a neighbour had locked herself out and emerged from the front door with a Jack Russell attached to my ass.
My Asian neighbour over the road, Ravinder, or Ravi as he is known, was attacked by a couple of young thugs in his driveway shortly after he and his wife moved into the street. I ran across the road waving one of my bayonets and the thugs ran off never to be seen again. A few days later I helped him fix a pipe leak and, for the last 23 years, his wife Anita has cooked me a homemade curry at least once a month.
I also taught their daughters to drive at a very discounted rate as they are not just my neighbours but my friends.
One neighbour was most put out when a newly arrived Polish family started to rent the house next to him. It doesn’t really matter where they are from, in his eyes all immigrants are scroungers on our welfare system.
It was clear that trouble was brewing. I happened to be home one day when I heard a row outside and it was the Polish husband and wife and their immediate ‘all immigrants are scroungers’ neighbour.
I wandered over and said to him, “You’re wrong you know. Tasha works and she’s a brilliant dancer”
“I am?” asked Tasha, clearly grateful for my intervention but somewhat bemused at my description of her (she actually works in a bank)
“Yeah, a Pole Dancer” I said.
The ‘all immigrants are scroungers’ neighbour and both Tasha and her husband laughed. The ‘ice’ appeared broken, the previously belligerent neighbour shook their hands and now they are the best of friends – albeit he invited them to a summer BBQ, brought out a pole and insisted Tasha dance around it.
See? Good neighbour and local peace envoy, that’s me.
Being a good neighbour is a two way street though. Sometimes you find it’s one way from you and another from a neighbour.
My immediate neighbours on our right are Afghan German Sikhs. Only I could get Afghan German Sikhs next door. Everyone else would get Afghan’s, German’s or Sikhs. I get all three in one. Typical!
They are having building work done. Fair enough. They kept starting at 7 a.m.
“Sorry” I said, “you aren’t allowed to start until 8 a.m., it’s the law” – after all, they can legally carry on until 6 p.m. so disturbing other neighbours before 8 is not really on eh?
They were unhappy but, seemingly reluctantly, complied.
On a Saturday all building work must stop by 1 p.m. – quite simply because neighbours are allowed a little peace and quiet at the weekend – and on a Sunday no building work is allowed (This is building / construction work were the sound will travel beyond the boundary of the property. It isn’t meant to include your neighbour putting up a shelf or something)
I allowed them to carry on the first Saturday until 3 p.m. then went around and said “Can you knock off now chaps. It’s 3 p.m. so a bit of peace and quiet please”
Much to my amazement ‘Daddy Sikh’ as I call him went absolutely crazy at me.
“Calm down mate. It’s English law old bean and, after all, I’ve let you go beyond 1 haven’t I?”
“THIS IS INDIAN LAW HERE!!!” he screamed at me. I was somewhat perplexed. I couldn’t fathom how I could have upset him. All I asked was that he obey the law and, given I’d let them work on a while longer than they should wasn’t I being reasonable? Apparently not.
“The thing is” I responded calmly, “this is England old bean so you can take your Indian law and shove it up your turban. I have asked you nicely to stop. If you don’t I will stop you. Please think carefully about your next course of action” I then picked up a hammer and nail and asked him whether he had any desire to be nailed up on his wall as decoration.
Suffice to say the building work stopped and no building work has started before 8 a.m. nor gone on beyond 6 p.m. Monday to Friday. Neither have they tried starting before 8 a.m. nor working beyond 1 p.m. on a Saturday.
‘Mummy Sikh’ and the two young sons (in their 20’s) are very nice to me and we get along fine. ‘Daddy Sikh’ invariably glares at me whenever he sees me.
You can’t choose your neighbours I suppose but it’s much better to get along than not – mind you, if you have a neighbour who attempts to take the piss there’s always the hammer and nail and decoration option.
Works for me.
Have any of you got neighbours from hell? How about great neighbours who would do anything for you? How about strange neighbours that only leave the house at night?
One of our neighbours is a huge black guy. Over six feet and easily 18 stones – no idea what that is in pounds. Lovely man with mental health problems. he forgot his medication one day and emerged from his house stark naked and carrying a loaf of bread and a very large knife. He then proceeded to stand on the small grass roundabout outside my house at the end of our cul-de-sac, carve off chunks of bread and wave the chunks at passing pigeons.
An alarmed neighbour called the police who, due to the knife. arrived with an ‘armed response’ team.
“Stay indoors!” shouted the officer in charge through a megaphone. naturally we all came out to watch the entertainment.
The large black chaps mother then came along with her umbrella and, despite the best efforts of the police to keep her away from her son, walked up to him, hit him on the head with her umbrella and said sternly “Home!”
“Yes mum” he replied sheepishly and off they went. He hasn’t forgotten his medication since so no further entertainment there then.
Several doors up the road burst into flames one evening. Apparently it was a ‘drugs house’ growing marijuana. The light and heat required in the house loft overloaded the electricity circuit and the lot went up in flames. Several neighbours, including myself, were requested to vacate the area after we had been caught too close to the burning building happily sniffing the air around.
Go on then. Your turn MMA. What are your neighbours like? Are neighbours ‘different’ in America or what? My inquiring mind wants to know.
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Mine are pretty cool except for the ones that are not. I swear they all still think of me as the little kid riding her bike or running through the streets when they see me.
You speak very nicely and remarkably intelligently for a little kid who’s just stopped riding her bike 😉
I’ve got the best neighbors in the world. I don’t know any of them!
Understand this is a rural area, my lane is a mile out to the road, I don’t even see a neighbor’s lights at night. Every now and again I see one couple ride through on their horses, and some from the other way come by on their 4 wheelers, they always wave. Some times they come over to hunt here too. I like that they help run off the ones who don’t belong here, and I do the same on their places. Now and again I’ll run into one of them in the market, and one came by one day to tell me they had called the power company about a sparking wire so I should expect it to go off for a while. That was nice of him.
When Mom passed they all showed up with prepared meals and condolences, when one had a fire we all showed up to do what we could and shared our spare rooms, surplus clothes and the like. A big tree fell across the lane one snow storm and 2 of the neighbors brought their chain saws to help clean it up. Now and then I’ll take the tractor or snowplow to help them when I see them doing something manually that could easier be done by machine. But they don’t ask, and either do I.
Best neighbors ever! They mind their own business and so do I.
My kinda neighbours! Not too close to be a pain 😉