On the Busses

It was back to work today, back to the early starts and the dawn chorus. My first delight of the day was a decrepit sofa across the road, loitering on the street like a terrifying teen. I believe it belongs to Phat Boy and his Slummy Mummy, and like them, deserves an A.S.B.O.

Second delight of the day...the return of my favourite celebrity look-a-like. At last, the day was looking up. I should explain. Every time I'm on early I catch the bus with a guy who looks like Sean Lock.

A Sean-Lock-a-Like if you will :D

Never spoken to the guy, and nor do I ever expect to. It would completely shatter all allusions I have of the man. I was also reunited with Mr Teeth (self explanatory) but he never amuses me as much as my own personal Sean - Lock-a-Like, (which is surprising when you bear in mind the actual size of his oral dazzlers!)

R.I.P Nancy

Sorry for the lack of postage yesterday. We spent the day in mourning for our beloved neighbour Nancy.

Forever shall she be remembered as the delightful old dear who introduced herself to us with broccoli stuck to pretty much every tooth. 'Twas a treat! And too for her insistence that we mustn't be afraid to "rave and party the night away" because she was as deaf as a doorpost. Bless her for that...we gladly accepted that offer and raved like we'd never raved before.

We first discovered that she ceased to exist when we were rudely awoken by the most terrific banging. I grabbed my dressing gown and hurried to the bedroom window. Parting the curtains a fraction I was greeted by the sight of two waste vans (a hybrid of a skip and a removal van-in both appearance and utility) and some rather surly gents filling them with furniture.

Now I say filling them, I mean chucking in with no regard every single item Nancy had owned. Right down to the last ornament. It was heartbreaking. A little bit of me was concerned that they were maybe sent by the bailifs, but my main concern was that I didn't know the full story...I had to investigate for my blog followers!

I popped downstairs - still in the dressing gown - and quickly filled a watering can so I could use the excuse that I was watering the hanging basket at the front. I casually ambled outside to find it was raining, and the removal men looked at me - watering can in hand - and must've thought me a right wolly!

Do not fear intrepid reader...I carried on regardless and nonchalantly asked if they knew of Nancy's whereabouts, or whether she had indeed 'popped her clogs'. Unforunately it was the latter, and all her belongings where simply going to the skip. I then asked (in hindsight a little insensitively) whether there was anything good left to remove. What I meant to ask was 'did she have a 70's cocktail style sideboard, and is it in good nick'!

Alas. Nancy is gone. And I still haven't found myself a nice sideboard!

The Quiet One

On my early starts I'm up before the sun to ensure at least two cups of tea can be consumed before the daily commute. Not much happens on a morning with regards to the neighbours (both back and front), aside from one of 'The Twins' popping out on one of their mysterious errands (more on them later).

So imagine my surprise when peering out of my kitchen window one morning I am faced by a policeman officer looking in at little old me!!! Now I am by no means, of the criminal variety, but for some reason, every time I see a member of the constabulary in the street or out and about, I feel like they're after me. I'd like to think that I'm not alone in this feeling :s

I tried my very hardest not to look too suspicious - an act which in itself probably only heightened my suspiciousness - and carried on with cup of tea number two, then off to work I went.

Upon returning to the homestead, I noted not only the same police car parked outside, but also the arrival of a skip...hardly a subtle difference seeing as it was being filled with bin bags by men in white Tyvek suits!!! My better half popped out to speak to the police men and was gifted with the info that for the 6 months we had been living next door to a rather hefty drugs farm!

Now I thought that neighbour had been quiet!

All four floors had been packed to the rafters with big leafy specimens and nice shiny lights, and a little Chinese man had been sleeping on a camp bed protecting his haul.

I shall have to remain vigilant to ensure no further activities of such illicit nature happen on my turf.

Neighbour Number One

Our first chapter will focus on my immediate subjects...the neighbours.

My good friend Admiral V once said to me whilst driving past a row of houses, "If people don't want you to see in their houses then they should invest in some net curtains." I could not agree more. I have a great interest in interior design and so nothing please me more than to check out living room design via the front-room windows. And I do this A LOT.

Neighbour number one, Wanda, had been a very intriguing su

bject, in that she is completely 'normal'. She provides me with the baseline by which I judge all other neighbours.

So Wanda then. Mid forties, brown curly hair and a penchant for demin skirts. Would guess at labour voter, though possibly considered lib-dem this time round. Has a son, Adam; ginger, quiet/rude and fond of dog walking.

Wanda is possibly queen of the street. Evidence to support this fact...she has a garden, and control over the streets only communal washing line. She is a goddess amongst us mere mortals.

The dog-Lulu is mad. Wanda had to erect a huge fence just to keep her from fleeing (fleaing :D)

This is simply an intro to Wanda; much more to follow.

Ciao for now