Dear LPG readers,

I have recently come across your pages and found flicking back through some of your writings really interesting. One of the articles that I could identify with was VH’s message to all the neighbours of the world (►►►).  I think she has the right idea because many older people have lived in the same place for years without even offering an acknowledging nod if they catch the eye of a neighbour as they leave their house on a workday morning. I must say that since retiring, I have had more time to learn about many of them, but there is one that makes my story different, though I suspect it's not that unusual.

It was her sentence. ‘No matter how positive or negative either of us feels about the other, there would have had to be some real argument between us for most neighbours to try that trick without a conscience clicking in.’ That got my real attention.

I have a neighbour of 45 years, and when I moved in, we were both young mothers.  I never really knew her that well, but one evening I parked my car outside her driveway.  I’m sure you know where this story is going now.  

I brought my children home from school and parked in the only available space at the time, which happened to be outside that particular gate.  My neighbour had a son who had not long passed his driving test.  The young man returned home in the early hours of that morning, and, although there were at least three other available parking spaces (there were a lot fewer cars around in the early 1990s), he banged on the door, started ranting, and demanded that I move my vehicle.  

I think that, had he rung the bell and spoken with a little more civility to me, had it not been about 2 in the morning, had I not been in my bedclothes and had I not been a single parent with two young children trying to sleep, I might not have been quite so upset.  The conversation continued… 

He said his car would be compromised in any of the available spare spaces, and I told him that mine would be too, if that were the case.  He then said he couldn't park his car in any of the free spaces, and I told him to give me the keys so that I could do it for him; things went downhill from there.  A week later, he left an old car outside my front gate for over two weeks. It was then that the Cold War started and continued for at least 10 years after that, even though he had moved out by then. 

I think that it was the Christmas of 2002 when I first found a ‘to my neighbour’ Christmas card when tagging along with my mum as she prepared for her Christmas postings.  My computer, printer, and I had perfected personal Christmas card production by then. I decided to add 10 to my list, directed from number 49 (my number) to all the houses in my road from number 38 to number 53, and I did include the dreaded number 42. 

It has now become an annual ritual for me.  At about 11 o’clock each Christmas Eve, as I set out for midnight mass, I deliver them.  I do receive a few cards back, but that is not the point of the exercise. Even though I address the numbers on the doors of my neighbours, after all this time, having spoken with most of them, I can add little personal notes.  I have put an annual ‘let’s let bygones be bygones’ message in number 42 every year.  

It took a few years, but we no longer snub each other anymore.  Those times when we catch each other putting the bins out or leaving the house result in a favourable nod of acknowledgement these days.  

As we approach Christmas card buying time again this year, I suggest that any neighbours who find themselves in a state of ‘cold war’ try this method to thaw the situation… 

IA, Dulwich