A good neighbour

Our first house (in 1977) was a 3-bed semi in the village of Bunny. Rather oddly, when you exited the back door into the garden there was a gate in the hedge between us and the adjoining house. The reason for this soon became clear.

The adjoining house was the home of Les and Marjorie Brain, two of the kindest people you could ever meet and certainly the best neighbours you could hope to have. The morning we arrived I'm pretty sure we were being made cups of tea before we even started unloading the hired minivan.

With Les and Marjorie lived her mother, who we always knew as Nan, and their son, Paul. Nan no longer went out much, but exactly like Marjorie is now (she's 90), she was always cheery, incredibly appreciative of everything, and very much a glass-half-full person in spite of ill health and not having a lot of money. The family had been renting the house for decades; the houses on our road were built for the Bunny brick-works, where Les worked before he retired.

We had 11 happy years in that house but moved when we needed more space for our second baby. The worst thing about leaving was not having Marjorie and Les next door any more. They were like parents to us.We often used the gate between our gardens, and never wanted to close it off. When I came home exhausted after a long night in the maternity ward in November 1983, guess who insisted on making me a cooked breakfast? I never have a cooked breakfast, but that was just exactly what I needed.

Sadly their daughter's marriage ended and she had to leave her two boys. (Is it wrong to speculate how bad life with Billy Bishop must have been for her to do that?)

Although the boys stayed in touch with their mum they cut off all contact with Marjorie, their grandmother. (Presumably their father had something to do with this when they were kids, but that does not excuse their behaviour later.) So she missed out on seeing them growing up into adults and having children of their own. I hope that one day they become grandparents and great-grandparents and realise what joy they deprived this sweet lady of, joy she richly deserved. (Since I started writing this one of them has rung and apologised; time will tell if he makes an effort to visit now.) (2024 note: no the little sh*t didn't.)

We stayed in touch with Marjorie after first Nan and then Les died; we went to their funerals. In recent years we've visited for her birthday and at Christmas.Now, sadly, she has lost her daughter to cancer. Ain't life a callous sodding bummer.

Since we left in 1988 Marjorie has had several new neighbours. Some are kind, others just not interested. Fortunately the current owners of our old house are great.

I don't understand not making an effort to get to know your neighbours. It really doesn't take much effort. And purely from a selfish point of view it makes sense. Who knows when you might need someone to keep an eye on your house? to take in a parcel? to cooperate over a shared boundary fence? You don't even have to like them ...but you might end up friends. Or, dare I say it, be there when they need some help...

Postscript, February 2024

It seems strange that it's eight years since I wrote this. Sadly this week we attended Marjorie's cremation and memorial service. She