But enough of that, subject closed, as we have nicer neighbours to tell you about. Over our other garden wall lives a family of pleasant people, and we have watched each other's children growing up these past ten years from a neighbourly distance. Whilst they were battling financially and poor things, their builder died before their house was completed, they still honoured their commitment to pay for their half of the boundary wall. When their trees became problematic on our side of the wall, we discussed the problem amicably with them, and assisted each other to sort them out with gifts and good manners. When they received my note forewarning them of our anniversary party and possible congestion and noise, they offered us extra parking space and delivered a beautiful bottle of wine to us with their congratulations and good wishes. We hope that we offer reciprocal friendliness and support. That's how it's done, thank you good neighbours!
Across the road from us, in the house that was home to our German friends and neighbours on contract here for five years, live a new English family. I have introduced myself to them, and offered them tea and cake on arrival, but since then, haven't had so much as a wave from them. Funny fat family, piling into their big, shiny (washed by the gardener) black 4x4 to drive the rug rats off to school seven houses away in the mornings. A far cry from the previous tenants, for whom we did the holiday chores when they went home for Christmas, and who so kindly looked after Rex if we went away. In fact, he was so well cared for there, that if ever the little blaggard did a runner, we knew he'd be sitting up on the kitchen stool there guzzling bratwurst!
A little further down the street lives, I am told by my informed sources (Suzy Q's spies are everywhere, I warn you!) a BEE executive. His children play cricket in the street despite having an oversized garden, and speaking of which, the man in mention can barely squeeze into his little Boxter, and doesn't do the shocks any good when he roars off over the speed humps. Over the way lives a Coloured family (since UCT finds it imperative to class and prioritize people according to colour, I see no reason why I shouldn't.) They are pleasant and peaceful except for the moment when their guests leave, and horns are tooted, and retooted. Totsiens.
A visitor once asked me on leaving whether I knew my other neighbours but one. I do, and gave his name, as we have chatted pleasantly in passing, and they were offered our swimming pool for the use of his two little ones, before theirs was built. What I didn't say is that, all be he a bit of a wimp of a man, he is affectionately known as "the sex maniac" by us. Reason being, that all was going well until his wife showed signs of a new pregnancy, and their house was obviously too small for five of them. So while they moved out for nigh on a year, we were left to cope with the builders and noise and rubble and renovators, all of whom chose to use our driveway in which to reverse their ten ton trucks. Condomise them!
"Nice guy," I told my visitor.
"What about his wife?" he shouldn't have asked.
"Bit on the sniffy side," said I.
"Used to be a model," said he.
"Ho, that explains that!" replied Suzy Q, for she never initiates nor acknowledges a greeting. Neither have I ever seen her kiss or hug her children when she sends them off to school. (Not quite The Valley of the Squinting Windows here, but dog walkers see and hear it all - police should use us more in their investigations.)
I used to think she ran a Bible Study Group on Fridays as her yummy mummy friends roared up looking so serious in their huge 4x4's, but it seems that she and all her ex-model mates are probably giving lessons in colonic lavage, 'cos they're definitely not giving them in smiling. Must've been a hard fall for the Mighty Model from the catwalks of Milnerton.
Suzy Q, with love and thanks for taking time to read me. xx
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