Tag: neighbours

56. Sometimes it’s the little things that make you feel better.

I love my street. I know most of my neighbours, some just to wave and say hi, but several have become good friends. We have community get togethers, a street party every year that is the talk of the area. There’s a book club where we occasionally talk about the book we were supposed to read but instead spend the evening chatting and laughing over a glass or two. We build areas for plants so the street looks nice, turn graffiti into flowery art that means we’ve never been graffitied again – too embarrassed in case their tags become another daisy or rose.

It’s not a rich, gentrified street but full of families that have grown together in the years that they’ve lived here.

A couple of weeks ago, on a warm sunny Sunday we had a bake-off and an art trail. People who liked to bake brought a mighty selection of homemade cakes. Those of us who liked to eat made sure there was nothing left (easy to guess which role I took). It was a chance to chat over tea and delicious offerings. Vegan sponge along side Eritrean bread, Lemon drizzle next to empanadas. Bliss.

The art trail had started days before. Those that wanted to had made miniature artworks and we hid them on the Sunday morning. They had all been photographed and children and some of the grownups searched around to tick the ones they found off their trail sheet.

I had entered. I couldn’t help myself.

A few years ago himself had complained of toothache. Finally going to the dentist she had made a mould of his teeth in order to produce a gum shield to wear at night. I found the plaster cast model of his teeth in the loft. It seemed ideal. A little addition and a small amount of paint later and I was ready to exhibit.

I named my piece “the shit he left behind”.

Sometimes it’s the little things that make you feel better.

17. So why is it only me that’s telling anyone?

South London parks are full of bright green, squawking parakeets. There are many theories as to how they got there. Stories range from Jimmy Hendrix letting some out of a house in Tooting, to an escaping flock from a travelling magic show. The most delightful is that they escaped from Shepperton Studios during the filming of The African Queen. Today, on a wintery but sunny day I strolled around the park with the nattering dazzling birds doing the occasional fly-past. The noise as the birds chatter to each other, whether two or three or a large noisy flock is funny and somehow, strangely reassuring.

I walked in the company of two wonderful, kind women who started off as neighbours – and still are – and have become good good friends. And we talked.

It’s really hard to start the sentence that finishes with “he and I are separating’. It feels trite to say ‘I’ve got some news’. ‘I have something to tell you’ feels overly dramatic – even though this is a big big drama. I am finding this announcements really tricky – and no one is expecting it.

They’re all being lovely. Supportive and practical, with offers of a cuppa when needed, or a space on the sofa and some crap telly if uncomplicated company is required. These friends are the family we choose, and their value is immense.

So why is it only me that’s telling anyone?

He spent an evening last week in the company of one of our local friends, a few doors away. A couple of drinks, and a few hours talking. But he didn’t say the biggest thing of all. I did ask why not, but the answer wasn’t really there. I don’t know if he’s scared, embarrassed, too upset. I’m all of those. It’s not like the opportunities aren’t there. Those one to one moments can be easy to create. If I can do it..

I know it doesn’t get any easier in the telling. I still have the hardest conversation ahead of me, which I have so far avoided, and that isn’t helping. But there are reasons – not the least that I have to do it by phone. But letting people know has to be done, the word has to get out. And people, as I often find about most things, are nearly always lovely.