don't be alarmed …

our neighbours went off across the Pond for the festive season – California, Colorado, Tennessee, and god knows where else. They left us a set of keys to the house, so we could pick up the post and so forth, and a key to Andrea’s Mini – because the builders who did their recent utility room conversion had failed to organise the removal of the skip from their driveway, and they thought we could move it in there when it went.

on the Friday lunchtime before Xmas, we realised that the skip guys were unlikely to turn up, so we popped the car into the end of our driveway at the back. And left it there until yesterday morning, when we returned it to where it had been on the road.

imagine my horror when it was gone this morning – could they be back without telling us? Or had some bastard nicked the bloody thing? Thankfully while we were making lunch today, Matt turned up in his car, and said that yes, they’d got back yesterday afternoon, but were too knackered to speak to anyone.

thank $deity – trying to explain to Inspector Knacker that the car had been stolen while we had a key was making me just a tad nervous.

bouncy

regular readers may remember the neighbours with the trampoline.

last week, he was spotted *dismantling his shed*, and we became cautiously optimistic that they might finally have sold up. And today, Matt From Next Door knocked on the door to tell us that a large hire van was outside the house, and was being loaded – they’ve gone! No more trampolining, thank $deity.

I fervently hope two things:

  1. that the new occupants aren’t too disappointed when they find out they won’t get planning permission for an extension, because the estate agent was overheard telling them that they “could just take the garage down and build an extension”, and they won’t get planning permission, and
  2. that the sodding trampoline was not included in the fixtures and fittings!

ding dong

do I *look* like a home storage and delivery service?

so far this morning, we have had a chap knock on the door with a box containing wine from Virgin Wines – this for no 19. Why they can’t do what we do, and support the local off-licence (which is very, very good) I have no idea.

we’ve also had ANC deliver a box for no 22 – no idea what’s in it, but it’s marked as fragile.

we are going out this evening, so I shall have to keep nipping (or popping) out to check when these people are home. And cardboard boxes in this house tend to get widdled on by cats, so these deliveries are currently in front of the freezer in the shed, meaning I can’t get to it.

I’ve often thought that there might be some mileage in somebody starting a home collect service that worked in the evenings – delivery to a local depot, then the punter could go and pick stuff up. But I suppose there would be problems with credit card authorisation and stuff. If it were that good an idea, I guess someone would have done it.

in the meantime, could somebody move those boxes for me?

an open letter to our neighbours

to all of you:

  1. the plastic crate does not belong to us. The plastic crate has *never* belonged to us. We do not know who owns the plastic crate, but it is not us.

    please therefore stop a) putting it right in front of our gate, so it has to be moved by anyone who wants to come through), b) putting it right in front of our front door, so we have to move it if we want to gain ingress and egress to our own house, and c) [boggle] hurling it into our front garden.

    it is by our front wall in the probably vain hope that the dustmen refuse disposal operatives will remove it on Thursday. If they don’t, I suppose *we’ll* have to take it to the sodding tip, even though it is NOTHING TO DO WITH US.

  2. you over the back fence – yes you. I’m sure that buying your children a huge trampoline and putting it in a garden the size of a pocket handkerchief struck you as a good idea, but perhaps you could ask them a) not to have the entire rabble of neighbourhood children round to play on it, b) not to scream quite so loudly, and c) to get off it at a reasonable hour of the evening (i.e. before 9 p.m.). Haven’t you noticed what time it gets dark now?

    thank you

    I also note that your house is now up for sale – I presume that your planning application to extend it and block all our light has been turned down. I wish you a swift and easy sale; I’ll even help you pack, starting with the bloody trampoline.

  3. you over the road. Yes, you – the ones who built a bloody car pull-in and DO NOT USE IT FOR A CAR, because it is Too Short (we told you so). Don’t you know how stressed parking is round here?

    having built it, please try not to dump your household rubbish in it – my sleep is not enhanced by having 8 to 10 rowdy and drunken yoofs playing foopball (yes, really) with your old bath at 1.15 a.m.

  4. love
    no. 20