I have a boyfriend

No, you don’t have to tell Dad because he’s the one who pointed it out. It’s our 86 year old neighbour. Well, he was 86 when he moved in a few years ago but now he’s 84. Hey! I’m not the one with dementia – he’s the first to admit he has dementia.

He visits almost every 2 days and, depending on the season, offers parsley, silverbeet, cherry tomatoes, mandarins and oranges and 3 or 4 magazines.

If he happens to see Dad instead of me, well, then he pops back again the very next day. Just in case Dad knocked me off or I left, I guess.

Here are a few examples in case you think we’re imagining it…

• Dad spray painting the car in the shed. In walked Mr 86 who said, “Hello Dad. (Obviously not what he really called him) Are you spray painting the car?” And then he touched the wet area! We have a thumbprint as proof.
• Dad fixing a car in the shed. In walked Mr 86 who said, “Hello Dad. Are you fixing the car?” And popped his head under the hood and gave him a history lesson on the type of car it was.
• Dad actually answering the door because I was tucked up in bed having a sleep-in. Mr 86 asked where I was and when Dad told him I was asleep, he actually started to whisper because he didn’t want to wake me up! Beautiful thought but wasted on Dad because he’s deaf too. And our bedroom is far away from the front door, so I wouldn’t have heard him anyway.
• The boys helping Dad mow the lawn. The first I knew of his visit was more silverbeet and parsley on the counter.
• Foal helping Dad clean the car and then getting sidetracked with me trying to get the stupid dog to go back home. (A story for another time) I came back inside and there was silverbeet and parsley on the counter.

These are just a few examples but after every single occasion where Mr 86 has not seen me, he has turned up the very next day, and the next… until he does see me. And he always gives me something. Even if it’s just a magazine.

I’ve been in his home (with Dad) and he has enough magazines to visit forever!!!

He never stays for long but he is obviously reaching out for companionship. He is married but his wife works a few days a week. I don’t think there’s a person in our street who doesn’t know him. He’s a lovely person and I wish they were still made that way.

Idiots and Fools

People fascinate me.

Take the neighbours for example. Not the good ones, I’m talking about the strange ones. There’s mum, dad, five kids, a mean dog and some bloke who stays there on and off. I’m not sure how he’s a related, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, but he’s an idiot!

Guess what he did today. He bought all the kids out into the backyard and told them to run around and scream. I think it was some sort of competition to see who could be the loudest. Now I could understand if he wanted them to burn off some energy but he actually joined in!

He declared himself the winner and then got cranky when the kids wouldn’t shut up. Seriously, who in their right minds encourages children to make a noise? Fool.

Another example is the silly driver from yesterday. Dad was about to reverse parallel-park and he actually did all the right things. You know, indicate, pull up alongside the car in front and then reverse in. Stupid woman behind us obviously doesn’t know the procedure because as he’s started to reverse, she’s planted her hand firmly on the ‘warning device’. He stopped, looked at her and then carried on. She did it again. I’m not sure why because our car was nowhere close to hitting hers but to make her feel safer, we both yelled at her to MOVE!!! Not that she needed to but she finally did.

The really funny thing about that whole incident was when the silly driver hit the ‘warning device’ she was alongside a friend of ours. The friend got a fright at the noise and yelled out, “MOVE” too. She had a few more choice words added though…

The Stray

I have a confession to make. I am generally a good-hearted person but sometimes I get a 'little bit cranky’. (Dad would disagree that it's a little bit cranky but this is still my blog)

Yes I can get a 'little bit cranky' and this is one of those times so let’s just go back a bit…


Down our street are quite a few houses but one in particular is my own personal nightmare. About four years ago, there was a knock on the door, and, as you do, I wandered over to see who it was. (I was also desperately hoping it was not yet another salesperson because I really don’t like dealing with them either) It was a woman and basically our conversation went like this:

Her: Hello, you don’t know me but you are obviously a soft touch. My husband needs our car so that he can get to work to pick strawberries, I need you to take our son to school and then bring him home in the afternoons.
Me: How do you know what school we go to?
Her: I was parked behind you at the school and followed you home. It would be so nice of you to relieve me of my parental duties of playing taxi for the snot-nosed brat. Besides I have other more important things to do, like sleep all day and recover from Thursday night bowling.
Me: Ok. (Fantastic! Now I have a stalker who lives down the road!)

Obviously that conversation was not 100% accurate but it was a while ago. I assumed that it would be a short term thing because they were trying to save money for another car (she actually did say so). I also stupidly assumed there’d be some sort of reciprocation. Sadly, there was no offer for petrol money, or the remote suggestion of she’ll pick up my boys because she’s got the car. Instead, there was just the lazy, sulking woman who had dragged herself from wherever she’d been lying to walk her son home. There was never ever a thank-you.

After a while I noticed that their car was often in the driveway and I got a 'little bit cranky’. I suggested to her that maybe her kid could catch the bus. She replied that there wasn’t one. Because I’m obsessive (I prefer the word persistent –thank-you very much) I decided to look into it and would you believe that there were actually TWO bus services they could use?! She only needed to walk him a little bit further. Oh! And actually pay someone for the service! I printed out the information and gave it to her. She only got the hint when I set Dad on her and he told her no more. Interestingly enough, the kid then caught the bus and I didn’t have to deal with them. They moved a few months later and sometimes I think, was it just me? (Then I get over it)

About two years ago, Dad and I had just come home from shopping. A woman’s voice called out. Again, as you do, I went to investigate. She was holding a dog’s collar and wanted to know if we knew where it lived. I told her no. She asked me to take responsibility because she needed to get back to work and the stupid mutt was running all over the busy road. I agreed, mainly because the dog was very friendly, needed a bath and the lady needed to go back to work. I phoned the local council and gave them the information on the dog’s collar and they managed to find the owner. He lives in THAT HOUSE!!! Anyway, to keep this story short, the dog owner wandered over and took the dog back home again. The mongrel had escaped when his wife went shopping!

Back to The Stray… About a year ago, there was a knock on the door (and by now you know what I did) There was a young boy (4) standing there. That conversation went a bit like this…

Him: Can I come and play?
Me: No, where’s your mum?
Him: She’s not here.
Me: Where do you live?
Him: Not here.

Then I noticed a man down the street, calling for him to come home.

Me: I think your dad wants you to go home.
Him: That’s not my dad.

Yes, it was his dad but what was even worse was it was the HOUSE!!! Again!!!

Apparently the dad had split up with the mum and they had shared custody. Shame and he gets so bored… No one else to play with…

So yes, I said he could come and play… The kid turned into a Houdini. He’d escape from his home and turn up here. I’d march him back if he was on his own. Most of the time, his dad or grandparents didn’t even know he was missing. The worst was when Granddad (that dog owner) turned up and asked if I knew where the kid was. I guess they found him but they never told me…

I told the dad the kid could play but only if he turned up with an adult. If the kid was flying solo, I’d walk him back home.

The last time he came to play, his dad said it was just for an hour. Two hours later, I walked him home.

His dad was a bit annoyed because he was “just going to finish his coffee”. I got a little bit cranky. (It’s a 2 minute walk – I doubt the coffee will go anywhere!!!)

We hadn’t seen The Stray for a while, so I thought they’d got the hint. But No! He was back last Saturday (alone), yesterday (alone) and both times I sent him home. (Yes, I watched him until I could see one of his family members watching him – I’m not totally heartless)

Today, he turned up WITH HIS DAD!!! At 4:00 on a Sunday afternoon!!! He asked if he could come and play. I said no.

Time for The Stray to go but why do I feel so bad? I don't like that house!

Conversations

The best one I had this week:

On Friday, I heard footsteps across the grass, and up the driveway to our front door. Even though Dad was closer to the front door, I hopped up from the computer to investigate.

It was NDN (Next-Door-Neighbour – Remember the 75-year-old-bloke who caught me tiptoeing barefoot and unshowered across his lawn to return his mail?) Actually, Dad didn’t even hear the footsteps across the grass and up the path and was extremely surprised at my anticipation of the door knock.

After we’ve exchanged greetings, NDN said, “Sorry to bother you! How much do you know about computers?”

I’ve replied with, “A fair bit. Why?” (Always curious)

NDN mumbled a whole bunch of stuff, that to be quite honest I didn’t quite get but there was something about an hourglass that has been sitting on his screen, and won’t go away OR let him do anything else.

I agreed to take a look – but only AFTER I’ve put my shoes on.

After explaining to Dad where I was going, why, and to rescue me if it took more than an hour, I walked next door. I left my shoes at the front door and NDN's shown me his computer. I noticed that almost half his computer icons are in Chinese! No wonder he has a problem! But how the bloody hell am I supposed to work with that?

I had a look and it appeared that his web browser had frozen. That’s when it occurred to me that he might actually have been downloading something I didn’t really want to know about.

I ended up shutting down his browser – very entertaining when the messages pop up in Chinese and NDN insisted on talking about other stuff. I felt like I was being rude by moving through the whole process but I did manage to reopen his browser to almost the page he was on last… He was actually researching ‘Properties’, not anything naughty. Thank goodness!

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The whole experience was not as funny as the time that other bloke turned up at our front door with his girlfriend close behind. We were actually on our way out, so I was already at the door. Not that I’m paranoid, actually I can be so don’t tell anyone, but I also keep the fly screen door locked at all times. He walked purposefully up to our doorway and tried to open it! When it didn’t oblige, he looked up and saw me standing there, watching him.

He said, accusingly, “Your door’s locked.”

All I could say was, “Yes, I know.”

Then he’s responded with, “You’re not Lisa!”

I replied with, “Yes, I know!”

Turned out he was at the wrong house – he needed to be at the next one over! As his girlfriend said, “How embarrassment!”

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Back to NDN: I forgot to mention his partner and her daughter are Chinese BUT he still caught me unshowered. At least, this time I had my shoes on - from my home to his and then back again…

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ANZAC Day – We have candles burning to honour the people who have fought, and continue to fight, for and on our behalf. We’ve also played the song, “We are Australian” twice . (Foal’s request) I've also had to show my citizenship certificate. We all agree that one still looks better than my degree…

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What is it about blogs and their appeal?

Is it because you can read someone else’s thoughts behind the illusion of anonymity, or is it something more?

Maybe it’s an attempt to connect with other people, looking for support or advice from someone in a similar situation. That way, maybe, you don’t feel so alone, isolated or unique…

How many of us know the names of our neighbours and actually know a bit about their life stories?

A few months back, we received a letter in the mail that quite clearly belonged to the ‘new’ next-door neighbour. Being the ‘good neighbour’ that I am, I thought I’d just wander over and pop it in their mailbox… And so I did…

Just a quick background note – I almost never go outside barefoot and without the morning shower. But on this day I did both! I am also pretty much a recluse…

And so! Imagine my surprise, when I was tiptoeing over the grass to the mailbox to suddenly hear from the new neighbour (in his shed), “Where are your shoes?” I was mortified and immediately apologized, explaining I was from next door, and was just returning his mail…

Then he recognized me – And started talking! I was out in the sun, unshowered and barefoot for one hour and twenty minutes! (Anyone who knows me thinks this is funny) But this man was so clearly desperate to talk to someone, that well-mannered girl that I am, I simply had to oblige…

My rescuer in this situation was, of course, my hubby! He came home and was equally stunned to see me standing, barefoot, next door having a chat! He joined in the conversation and I was able to leave and go take that shower! (and put shoes on)

In the light of recent Australian events, my thought now is - 'We teach our children not to talk to strangers but when should they be told it’s OK now?'