| NEIGHBOURS. |
| Written by Vaughan Smith |
| Thursday, 09 July 2009 12:05 |
|
Neighbours. Everybody needs good neighbours; or so we are told by that show 'Neighbours'. But they are hardly going to put a negative spin on something that their show is all about, are they? I've been home; sick for the week... and apart from watching heaps of movies that I had I classed as 'too long for a school night' and watching 'True Blood' (also too long for a school night), I’ve been making a conscious effort to be more aware of my surroundings. Namely, the people that you meet when you're walking down the street; they're the people that you meet each day... (Sesame Street: 'Who Are The People In Your Neighbourhood?' song - circa 1978) ... NEIGHBOURS... WHO ARE THEY AND WHY DO THEY NEED AN ENTIRE CUP OF SUGAR? ARE THEY MAKING FUDGE? OR TOFFEE? I WANT SOME... I am privileged enough to rent a house that's on a big enough section, that someone decided to put an axe through the head of the Kiwi 1/4 acre dream and build a house out the back; for double the rent. They got jipped though. It's the shittiest one-room you'll ever see. We snuck in there between tenants, not pretty. You might as well be an inner-city apartment dweller. Anyway. Over time, a few people have lived there. One guy moved out after we kept him awake all night, laughing while watching religious programming on Nitrous Oxide (it was legal then, don’t you think less of me). The next people were a couple we simply referred to as; “The Goths”. It was a treat living next to The Goths in the time of the 'Emo', knowing that The Goths were gothing when Emos were simply; happy 7 year olds playing 'Bob the Builder', enjoying bright colours, smiling and occasionally wetting the bed. They moved out a few months back and into the small one-bedroom place moved; “Neighbour C”... Only called C, because she is the third person to live there. Not a lot is known about Neighbour C. She enjoys a smoke and a drink... and some awful middle of the road rock music; like U2. (Once I heard Creed, just the once mind...) Also a note-worthy fact is the bevy of visitors she has at different times of the day. Mostly men who work in construction. Hmmm... draw ones own conclusion there. Next door we have a lovely family who always say hello and never seem to run out of children. Every week there’s a new one. Not a baby either. Full grown 6 years olds just appear there. It’s uncanny, they never last long either. There was a teenager learning to drive situated there for a while, but she’s gone now. I think their house is; a children and young persons blackhole. Excuse my Islander-ignorance, but I often thought they were from the Cook Islands due to a language I mistook for Cook Island Maori... But the matriarch of the family was wearing a "Niuean Athletic” (do you know NZ conducts Niue’s foreign affairs?) shirt, the other day when he was mowing the lawns. I often mow their road-front if I’m mowing the lawn, because they mowed ours once when the mower was broken. That’s some 1950’s neighbourly shit right there people; what this great nation was founded on. However, I won’t do it for the Neighbours on the other side, ya know why? Because they NEVER do our lawns and they aren’t even separated by a driveway like me and the Niuean Long Jumping champ of 1978. They don’t mow our road-front but they are a nice family... but they are SHROUDED in mystery. Yes; shrouded. Like a valley is shrouded by the early morning fogs of May... I have my suspicions that they are Vampires. But instead of not coming out in daylight, they just never come out on weekdays... WHY NOT? Perhaps they are one of those families that don’t live in that house all week? Maybe they work and school elsewhere, but live there in the weekend while conducting inner-city social experiments... Hmmm I think I’ve over-analysed that one. They are nice, but! When I’m gardening; which is often... and I’m yelling to my girlfriend, they always think I’m talking to them and end up getting caught up in a conversation about something I was trying to talk to my lady about... Like if she’s planning on getting the washing in, or “who was that on the phone”, or “Can I have a drink?”. It can get awkward as you might imagine. They are requests perfect for a flatmate or partner, but just slightly beyond the boundaries of being a good neighbour. Over the road we’ve got three neighbours that I am familiar with. One is the house simply known as; the Day Retreat of Fat Nana. She’s this old fat bitch that has trouble walking due to the aforementioned BMI. She has cankles and she is meeeeeeeeeean. She yells at her grandkiddies a lot. I think she looks after them when her parents are at work. She’s nasty, she’s not a “take some cake home” Nana, she’s an “Eat all your fucking cake, none for you” Nana. Fat. Grumpy. Bitch. The house directly over the road, is a mystery. I think they’re vampires too, but the conventional type. But I’ve got no problem with them as long as they keep drinking synthetic blood and don’t drink my blood. But on the other side of them is the neighbour simply known as “Douchebag”. He sits in his crappy convertible and listens to Evanescence, which I was unaware was the soundtrack-to-the-day, of Douchebags. I thought 'Tubthumping' by Chumbawumba, would be more his style; with his nice tank-top and slicked-back hair... Because he drinks a lager drink, he drinks a vodka drink, he drinks a whisky drink, he drinks a cider drink, he sings a song that reminds him of the better times and it’s Evanescence, what a cock. That’s the basics of my urban setting. I’ll continue to watch... and if they read this and knife me while I retrieve my Briscoes mailer from my letterbox CLEARLY marked “no circulars”, then I will see you all in the ground where worms will feed on our rotting remains. I’m being buried in a steel casket. If they can get through that, they deserve a tasty treat. Toodles. |
