Our neighbour, of the last 15 years, has been threatening to return to the Land of her Fathers for, ooh, about the last 15 years.
We listened politely, and kept an eye on her house when she went on her annual jaunts to said LOHF; but we never really expected that she would actually go.
But she is. Tonight. The van is parked outside (blocking my window actually, but one has to be neighbourly) and all her worldly goods are being
She's about 150 and she is leaving her home of 40 years and is starting afresh. Despite it being the Land of her Fathers, she doesn't actually know a soul there. Brave? Or bonkers?
Or perhaps a bit of both?
Well, the kids are a bit sad to see her go - they have know her all their lives, after all.
And she has always been very kind to them. Bringing them treats back from her holidays, passing them vintage comics and puzzle books over the garden wall (having taken care to obscure or cut out any offers to send away for - lest they should be crestfallen when they fail to raise the 2/- necessary for postage and packing).
I, too, will miss her. She has been an interesting person to live next door to. She let the whole family troupe through to see her telescope rigged up with a piece of paper on a music stand so we could watch Venus pass across the sun without fear of lasting blindness.
Even her odd moments will be missed. Like the time she called me across and asked if I had dropped 'this' outside as it may be important. 'This' was a receipt for two bottles of vodka.
Not sure if it was a cry for help, or if it was her way of suggesting I behave like a drunken old soak.
So, yes. I will miss her. But she has provided me with plenty of inspiration for a character in my latest story.
Which reminds me, I really should get on with that.
And life moves on - and a new neighbour moves in.
I'll keep you posted.