Well, I can’t help it. I’m a writer. Our new neighbours are very quiet and civilised. I haven’t spotted them doing anything interesting at all, no matter how hard I peer. But there’s a ray of hope now. The guy who lives behind us screamed like a girl the other day. A pucker blood-curdling, hair-raising, drawn out, EEEEEEEEEK! We have walls around the whole perimeter, and unfortunately they’re too tall for me to get my nose over, so I was left to lurk a bit, wondering if I should call an ambulance or something. Then after a few minutes of absolute silence he launched into a string of swearwords so sublime that I felt obliged to trot to my desk and take notes. I can only imagine what terrible thing must have happened to the poor fellow.
Then…. Yesterday, shortly after sunup, I caught a whiff of smoke. Until very recently, back where we lived in the Zimbabwean bush, any sort of whiff of smoke was cause for concern. So I instinctively zoomed over to the lounge window and had a look out. I’ve never noticed before, but from that particular spot of window you can see into a bit of his yard, because that section of this house is quite high off the ground. And lo and behold, I got my first actual eyeful of my worthy neighbour. Wearing only his underwear. Itty bittie little thing it was too. I think they’re called banana hammocks. Ha ha haaaaaa! What joy! He’s not a hottie in any way. Don’t get me wrong. He’s short, slightly portly, somewhat grey, and balding. But he’s interesting. I expect great things from him in the future.
From the whisp of smoke rising from the other side of the wall, it’s safe to say that he was burning something. His clothes maybe? He poked it around for a bit, seemingly quite cool about wandering in the garden in his tiny pair of tinies at the crack of dawn, and then disappeared from my eager view leaving me eyeballing a surprisingly pert posterior jiggling off to get up to who knows what. Next time I’ll try and catch his eye and say hi I think. He looks like prime story fodder to me, and I really want to know about that scream. And why he doesn’t wear bigger pants.
Somewhere along the line I’m sure he’ll end up in a story. People are too trusting of us scribblers and our unnaturally keen interest in hearing what they have to say. We probably come across as really likeable too with the amount of interest we show in everything, when really we’re just naturally nosy. Or maybe that’s just me. Never mind. Now I really need to find another sweet spot window so I can see if my other neighbours do anything interesting when they think no one’s watching. 😀