Mother: As I returned home just now I was followed by some young men. They went by as I looked for my key at the front door, and a young man who was trying to catch up to them paused to say, while indicating the house next door, "I hope Lertch doesn't make too much noise for you."...."I hope so too," I replied.
Daughter: The young men had probably just left the pub. I hate the way everything the man next door hears from our house gets talked about at the pub.
Next Morning.
Daughter: Last night I was kept awake by a loud conversation between the man next door and his girlfriend. I was so exasperated that I opened my window and called out "You are so boring!" He didn't like that at all. He said to his girlfriend "...."She said I am boring!" ...."She thinks I am boring!" He couldn't cope with being called boring. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I think I will write him a note to apologise.
Later.
Daughter: Do you want to know what I wrote in my apology to the man next door?
Mother: What did you say?
Daughter: I said "I'm sorry I said you were boring." ..."That was a really stupid and unfair thing to say."...."You are probably a really interesting guy, but unfortunately any noise that keeps me awake at 3.00 am in the morning is really boring"... "No hard feelings." I signed off with "Your premenstrual neighbour."
Where will I put the note? If I put it under his front door it may not be noticed.
Mother: You could attatch it to his side of the falling down dividing fence, opposite his kitchen door. But you need to make it catch his attention.
Daughter: I'll fold the paper, and turn it into a card. Now I've drawn a happy, smiling face on the front. Do you like the moustache and glasses I've added?
Mother: Maybe you could add a big "Hello". That should get his attention.
About midday the man next door's reply was pushed through the letter slot in their front door, moments after they saw him walking by, looking shabby and hungover. His note was written in pencil, on a grubby piece of paper. The note said "I'm sorry I keep you awake with my noise. I know I have been a very difficult neighbour, and thank you for drawing attention to the fact that I am boring. Maybe you should come over for a bbq one day to see what a great guy I really am. And as for boring, you are fucking boring! All you do is walk up and down the street looking really sexy. How fucking boring is that!"
It was Friday evening. There was something about the summer evening, after a long, hot day, that made Mother suddenly get up from the table without drinking the cup of tea she had just made. Without cleaning her teeth, or checking to make sure that none of the delicious meal she had just eaten was sticking to her face, she felt compelled to straight away go out for a walk, although it would soon be dark. She crossed the road at the corner, turned left, and at the next corner she heard a man's voice. She looked up to see if he was talking to her.
Man In Street: I love your hair....I saw you coming ...Is there an RSL Club around here? I'm new to this area, and I'm just looking around.
Mother looked at the man and noticed that he looked quite nice. He was probably in his early 40's, and she noticed that he had very broad shoulders, a good body, and that he was reasonably tall. His face was quite nice too, but he looked painfully nervous. Was that a slight twitch in his cheek?
Mother: I can't think where there is an RSL Club around here. There is a pub on that corner, and another, better one a couple of blocks away up there.
Man In Street: Would you like to have a couple of drinks with me? I don't have to work in the morning.
Mother was aware that if she went with this man into the nearby pub, the man next door was likely to be there, observing them. She also did not like pubs. Without giving it any more thought she replied ...
Mother: I hate pubs! ... I've spent too much time in pubs with an alcoholic partner.
She went to move on.
Man In Street: Do you have to go?
Mother: I'm going for a walk, and then I have things to do at home.
Man In Street: I may as well get your phone number.
Mother: Oh! OK.
And that is how Mother met Peter, who rang early next morning to make sure she had got home safely from her walk. Then a few days later he rang again, and at the end of the week they began to meet regularly.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The Man Next Door. Chapter 3.
Daughter: I had a dreadful dream last night. It took place just as a real storm hit outside.I dreamt that my room was different, long, with hinged windows and shutters all along, and when a great gust of wind struck, it blew out all the windows and there was glass everywhere. As often happens, there were people next door making a lot of noise, talking and drinking and partying as I was going to sleep, so when I went to sleep I dreamt that I was in next door. Sometimes I just dream that I'm observing what goes on, and sometimes I'm getting involved. Once I was making everyone cups of tea, after heating the water in a large saucepan which took ages to boil. Sometimes I'm joining in the drinking and dancing and socialising. One night the dancing was so real that in the morning I asked Alpha if he had noticed dancing next door during the night.
What would you think if I actually started going in next door, and getting involved in what goes on there?
Mother: Knowing your past history I'd say it would be the beginning of the end for you. Would you want to get onto the man next door? I certainly don't fancy him. And there seems to be something funny about his legs. Have you noticed the way he shuffles along to the pub?
Daughter: He's not so bad physically, but he has such an ugly personality. All he does is complain. I hear him complain about his life and about people and everything. If I wanted to get onto someone it would be one of the interesting, attractive young men I've dreamt about, partying next door.
I hope we're not being unkind to the man next door.
Mother: Why? You don't think he can feel our criticism do you? We're just having fun seeing it as a story.
But he does tend to get nasty when he gets drunk, ordering loud-mouthed women out of his house when they take over the limelight during a party, or if they go somewhere they're not supposed to go. And I heard him being very nasty to a girlfriend one night, when they were upstairs together.
"You are not that pretty", he said..."I'm not that desperate that I want to go to bed with you."
Then he began to shout ..."Get out of my house"...."Get out of my house," and I wondered why she didn't leave. I could see him standing in the room looking like Napoleon, as he shouted at her.
Next thing the light went out and all was quiet. Maybe they went to bed together after all.
Daughter: Maybe these days he's trying to be nicer to his girlfriends, so he can hang onto them.
Mother: I've heard recently that men his age can easily slip from respectability, with good jobs, or even professions, into homelessness.
But he shouldn't, because he's lucky enough to own his own home.
Daughter: I'm not so sure about that. A couple of days ago I saw a letter on his front doorstep from RAMS Mortgages.
Maybe he's in financial difficulties, and having trouble paying his mortgage.
(To be continued.)
What would you think if I actually started going in next door, and getting involved in what goes on there?
Mother: Knowing your past history I'd say it would be the beginning of the end for you. Would you want to get onto the man next door? I certainly don't fancy him. And there seems to be something funny about his legs. Have you noticed the way he shuffles along to the pub?
Daughter: He's not so bad physically, but he has such an ugly personality. All he does is complain. I hear him complain about his life and about people and everything. If I wanted to get onto someone it would be one of the interesting, attractive young men I've dreamt about, partying next door.
I hope we're not being unkind to the man next door.
Mother: Why? You don't think he can feel our criticism do you? We're just having fun seeing it as a story.
But he does tend to get nasty when he gets drunk, ordering loud-mouthed women out of his house when they take over the limelight during a party, or if they go somewhere they're not supposed to go. And I heard him being very nasty to a girlfriend one night, when they were upstairs together.
"You are not that pretty", he said..."I'm not that desperate that I want to go to bed with you."
Then he began to shout ..."Get out of my house"...."Get out of my house," and I wondered why she didn't leave. I could see him standing in the room looking like Napoleon, as he shouted at her.
Next thing the light went out and all was quiet. Maybe they went to bed together after all.
Daughter: Maybe these days he's trying to be nicer to his girlfriends, so he can hang onto them.
Mother: I've heard recently that men his age can easily slip from respectability, with good jobs, or even professions, into homelessness.
But he shouldn't, because he's lucky enough to own his own home.
Daughter: I'm not so sure about that. A couple of days ago I saw a letter on his front doorstep from RAMS Mortgages.
Maybe he's in financial difficulties, and having trouble paying his mortgage.
(To be continued.)
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Man Next Door. Chapter 2.
Mother: The first time I had a close look at The Man Next Door was one winter evening when I answered a knock at the front door.There stood a bright-eyed, pleasant-faced young man, looking friendly, and somewhat excited.
I didn't recognise him as The Man Next Door until he introduced himself.
The Man Next Door: I'm your next door neighbour, who lives on that side.
Mother: I'm sorry I didn't recognise you. You look much better up close.
The Man Next Door: I'm sorry, but my garbage bin seems to be on your front verandah.
Mother: Really! I usually check the number on the bin, but this morning I was in a hurry.That bin was the only one left out the front so I assumed it was ours. Sorry about that. I wonder where our bin is.
(They both looked up and down the street of terrace houses, and could see only one bin left out on the footpath, well up towards the end of the street.)
The Man Next Door: I'll go and see if that one is your's.
Mother: That would be very nice of you. I haven't got shoes on, only sox.
(The Man Next Door hurried away along the footpath and returned triumphant with the bin.)
The Man Next Door: It's your bin.
Mother: Oh, that's wonderful. I'm very grateful to you.
(She thinks) What a nice man.
(The Man Next Door stood there and seemed to want to talk some more.)
The Man Next Door: Did you hear anything going on in my backyard one night last week, while I was away?
Mother: We didn't know you were away.Yes, I heard noises and voices one night but I couldn't see what was going on. Alpha heard noises too, and he could see something going on in your backyard. Next morning he said that he wondered why you were removing timber from your backyard in the middle of the night.
The Man Next Door: It wasn't me removing the timber. Some men pulled down my back fence so they could take out all the timber in my backyard and take it up to The Block. It was a cold night and they must have somehow known about the timber in my backyard and they had decided to get it to make a big fire to keep them warm while they stood around drinking and talking. They took my wheelbarrow too.
At about the same time, the man who lives opposite me heard and saw some men trying to break into my house through the front door, and he called the police. When the police came they caught two men in your backyard, trying to break into the back of your house, after failing to get in through the back of my house.
Mother: We had no idea all that was going on.
The Man Next Door: After I came back home, and found out what had happened in my absence, I went down to The Block and found people warming themselves around a fire, with a big pile of timber close by, along with my wheelbarrow.
I said to them "That's my timber you are burning, and that's my wheelbarrow."
They protested when I tried to take back my wheelbarrow, but I took it anyway.
When I got back home again I still had to re erect my back fence.
Mother: Fancy all that happening. And we may never have found out about it if I hadn't brought in the wrong garbage bin.
I hate to imagine what might have happened if the men had managed to break into our house without being caught, while we were asleep.
I didn't recognise him as The Man Next Door until he introduced himself.
The Man Next Door: I'm your next door neighbour, who lives on that side.
Mother: I'm sorry I didn't recognise you. You look much better up close.
The Man Next Door: I'm sorry, but my garbage bin seems to be on your front verandah.
Mother: Really! I usually check the number on the bin, but this morning I was in a hurry.That bin was the only one left out the front so I assumed it was ours. Sorry about that. I wonder where our bin is.
(They both looked up and down the street of terrace houses, and could see only one bin left out on the footpath, well up towards the end of the street.)
The Man Next Door: I'll go and see if that one is your's.
Mother: That would be very nice of you. I haven't got shoes on, only sox.
(The Man Next Door hurried away along the footpath and returned triumphant with the bin.)
The Man Next Door: It's your bin.
Mother: Oh, that's wonderful. I'm very grateful to you.
(She thinks) What a nice man.
(The Man Next Door stood there and seemed to want to talk some more.)
The Man Next Door: Did you hear anything going on in my backyard one night last week, while I was away?
Mother: We didn't know you were away.Yes, I heard noises and voices one night but I couldn't see what was going on. Alpha heard noises too, and he could see something going on in your backyard. Next morning he said that he wondered why you were removing timber from your backyard in the middle of the night.
The Man Next Door: It wasn't me removing the timber. Some men pulled down my back fence so they could take out all the timber in my backyard and take it up to The Block. It was a cold night and they must have somehow known about the timber in my backyard and they had decided to get it to make a big fire to keep them warm while they stood around drinking and talking. They took my wheelbarrow too.
At about the same time, the man who lives opposite me heard and saw some men trying to break into my house through the front door, and he called the police. When the police came they caught two men in your backyard, trying to break into the back of your house, after failing to get in through the back of my house.
Mother: We had no idea all that was going on.
The Man Next Door: After I came back home, and found out what had happened in my absence, I went down to The Block and found people warming themselves around a fire, with a big pile of timber close by, along with my wheelbarrow.
I said to them "That's my timber you are burning, and that's my wheelbarrow."
They protested when I tried to take back my wheelbarrow, but I took it anyway.
When I got back home again I still had to re erect my back fence.
Mother: Fancy all that happening. And we may never have found out about it if I hadn't brought in the wrong garbage bin.
I hate to imagine what might have happened if the men had managed to break into our house without being caught, while we were asleep.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Man Next Door
Daughter: He must hate us.
Mother: Why?
Daughter: Because we witness the way he lives.
Mother: I wonder what he thinks about the way we live?
As I walked past the pub one day last week I saw him standing outside, and when I looked at him he rolled his eyes contemptuously.
Daughter: We treat him with contempt too.
He seems to be going downhill and I hope our attitude isn't affecting him.
Mother: It's just that when I first saw him he reminded me of a mangey rat, the way he skulked around, trying to dash unseen down the back to his toilet, head down, showing his thinning hair which I used to think was covered in plaster, but maybe he's just going grey.
I'm glad our back door isn't at the side like his is, where we can see him from our kitchen windows when he goes outside.
Daughter: You know, he doesn't have a bathroom at the moment, or a proper toilet. Just the outside one up next to the back fence. I heard him tell a girlfriend one night ... "I don't have a bathroom or a toilet. I just have what you can see."
I think some girlfriends don't like using the toilet down the back. That must be why some nights we see one drunken girlfriend down the side of the house, her white buttocks teetering unsteadily over a bucket.
After a noisy party there one night Alpha said he had seen naked women pissing around all over the place outside.
You know, when I first came to this house, a year before you did, the man next door seemed very nice, and he was bright eyed and enthusiastic, delighted to have bought his house, and full of ideas about doing it up.
But after a little while it began to seem that he had lost his way and that he didn't know what he was doing, so all he could do was to demolish things.
Mother: With the amount of rubble and bricks and timber that have gone out of his house you wonder what can be left inside. Now you can see that he's removing the upstairs ceiling. You wonder why he removed some windows upstairs.
Do you think he really is a builder? One day he spoke to me over the side fence, saying that he is a builder and that's why he was sometimes away during the week. He said he was doing building jobs in the country and that he was about to start a very difficult job that no one else could tackle. So he would be away a lot more. It's funny, but he was only away for a couple of days, and now he doesn't seem to go away at all. His vehicle seems to always be out in the street. Apart from all the banging, and all the removal of timber from inside his house, I've seen little evidence of building going on next door. Just one tiny window installed upstairs at the back of the house. Maybe he's going to put the bathroom there.
Daughter: You know, I think his problem is that he's a perfectionist and he can't bring himself to tackle the jobs that need to be done. He wants to do them properly and he is nearly always too drunk or hungover to be able to get started. I saw him through the kitchen window one day doing a really good job of washing his frying pan and cooking utensils. He really worked hard on making them perfectly clean before putting them away. And one day he was making chips, peeling the potatoes, then diligently chopping them up, concentrating on making the slices perfectly even.
Mother: Yet his house is a complete mess.
Daughter: That doesn't stop him from inviting people home to party after the pub closes at night.
Mother: Did the party he had last night keep you awake?
Daughter: Yes, especially when he started to play drums at 1 am.
Mother: It's the loud mouthed drunken women who annoy me the most. And he leaves the back door open so you can't help hearing all the talking and shouting and music.
Daughter: You know, after I finally got off to sleep this morning I dreamt that I was in next door, partying too, and dancing. I dreamt that there were some nice young men there. It's not the first time I've dreamt that I was in next door. In my dreams our house and his house are connected.
(To be continued.)
Mother: Why?
Daughter: Because we witness the way he lives.
Mother: I wonder what he thinks about the way we live?
As I walked past the pub one day last week I saw him standing outside, and when I looked at him he rolled his eyes contemptuously.
Daughter: We treat him with contempt too.
He seems to be going downhill and I hope our attitude isn't affecting him.
Mother: It's just that when I first saw him he reminded me of a mangey rat, the way he skulked around, trying to dash unseen down the back to his toilet, head down, showing his thinning hair which I used to think was covered in plaster, but maybe he's just going grey.
I'm glad our back door isn't at the side like his is, where we can see him from our kitchen windows when he goes outside.
Daughter: You know, he doesn't have a bathroom at the moment, or a proper toilet. Just the outside one up next to the back fence. I heard him tell a girlfriend one night ... "I don't have a bathroom or a toilet. I just have what you can see."
I think some girlfriends don't like using the toilet down the back. That must be why some nights we see one drunken girlfriend down the side of the house, her white buttocks teetering unsteadily over a bucket.
After a noisy party there one night Alpha said he had seen naked women pissing around all over the place outside.
You know, when I first came to this house, a year before you did, the man next door seemed very nice, and he was bright eyed and enthusiastic, delighted to have bought his house, and full of ideas about doing it up.
But after a little while it began to seem that he had lost his way and that he didn't know what he was doing, so all he could do was to demolish things.
Mother: With the amount of rubble and bricks and timber that have gone out of his house you wonder what can be left inside. Now you can see that he's removing the upstairs ceiling. You wonder why he removed some windows upstairs.
Do you think he really is a builder? One day he spoke to me over the side fence, saying that he is a builder and that's why he was sometimes away during the week. He said he was doing building jobs in the country and that he was about to start a very difficult job that no one else could tackle. So he would be away a lot more. It's funny, but he was only away for a couple of days, and now he doesn't seem to go away at all. His vehicle seems to always be out in the street. Apart from all the banging, and all the removal of timber from inside his house, I've seen little evidence of building going on next door. Just one tiny window installed upstairs at the back of the house. Maybe he's going to put the bathroom there.
Daughter: You know, I think his problem is that he's a perfectionist and he can't bring himself to tackle the jobs that need to be done. He wants to do them properly and he is nearly always too drunk or hungover to be able to get started. I saw him through the kitchen window one day doing a really good job of washing his frying pan and cooking utensils. He really worked hard on making them perfectly clean before putting them away. And one day he was making chips, peeling the potatoes, then diligently chopping them up, concentrating on making the slices perfectly even.
Mother: Yet his house is a complete mess.
Daughter: That doesn't stop him from inviting people home to party after the pub closes at night.
Mother: Did the party he had last night keep you awake?
Daughter: Yes, especially when he started to play drums at 1 am.
Mother: It's the loud mouthed drunken women who annoy me the most. And he leaves the back door open so you can't help hearing all the talking and shouting and music.
Daughter: You know, after I finally got off to sleep this morning I dreamt that I was in next door, partying too, and dancing. I dreamt that there were some nice young men there. It's not the first time I've dreamt that I was in next door. In my dreams our house and his house are connected.
(To be continued.)
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