It was Housemate Reggae's birthday last week, and he had a BBQ on Saturday to celebrate.
Returning from the Offie with Billy the Greek at around 7pm, I was collared by one of the Lynnes from nextdoor. I was fully expecting her to chip in with a moan or something at sometime during the day and was pre-emptively pissed off about it, because (a) it wasn't my party or my guests, and therefore not my responsibilty but I knew it would still be me who'd have to cop it as the Lynnes seem to be of the opinion that the three of us are not seperate entities in my flat, and anything they complain about or say to one of us they assume they've said to all of us, and (b) they seem to think they are our landlords rather than mere neighbours, and can instruct us how to treat our property, when to put our bins out, where to park our cars, how to take care of our garden etc. The lectures never cease.
Coupled with my irritation about this predicatable encounter, I'd also been drinking since midday, so was well and truly ripe for a minor neighbourly confrontation.
So the key was in the door and suddenly she appeared (I'm quite sure she has some sort of device which allows her to know whenever we leave the relative safety of our flat because the amount of times she seemingly magically materialises is too frequent for it to be chance).
"Huw," She whined, "I'm not going to be kept up all night, am I?"
"Well I dunno Lynne," I said, making a show of rearranging my package through my jeans, "you never know your luck"
Billy the Greek bustled me indoors as Lynne looked confused before our hoots of laughter became too mocking.
4 weeks ago