So we have new neighbours again (I don’t know what we’re doing to frighten people away – maybe it’s the blog?) and it’s a sign of how long I’ve been out of London that I didn’t bother hanging around the garden in order to bump into them when they were moving in, but just boldly knocked on their door and introduced myself on my way back from getting the paper.
There’s a slightly ticklish issue with getting new neighbours, which is that we have a shared yard for parking and although there’s masses of space (I know, I have to weed the gravel), there’s one particular spot where if someone parks their car, it makes it very awkward for others to turn around, and that seems to be the very spot where people choose to park their cars if not directed to otherwise. Now the last thing we want to be is the sort of neighbours who introduce ourselves by telling people where they should park, not least because that’s exactly what our original neighbour did when we moved in (and the next thing we knew, he was kneeling in the yard in full camo gear, zeroing the sight of his air rifle on the garage door, but that may be unrelated). On the other hand, neither do we want to be the sort of neighbours who burn with hidden resentment at the fact that people are parking in the wrong spot, a resentment made worse by the fact that we haven’t actually told them that they’re parking in the wrong spot, so we can’t actually blame them and yet, somehow, we do – a situation that can only end in broken wing mirrors, or indeed, air rifles.
So fortunately our new neighbours who appear very nice, pretty much opened the conversation by asking where they should park and so all is so far sweetness and light.
Now all we need is for them to get a cat.