- 26 May 2005
Rural communities are hard to break into. Everyone around here has known each other for years, plus we're only renting so I don't feel too bad about not knowing the neighbours so well. The lad next door is alright though. There's an old lady over the road and her son lives in land behind the house in a caravan, with an estranged wife and his two sons living two houses down. We had only been here a few months and the old ladies husband died - we made the cultural faux pas of not going to the funeral and attitudes towards us have been a little frostier since those times.
Mrs MB was born and raised in the village we live in. There is a general principle here that if you don’t have a relative named on the war memorial or at least have one pushing up the daisy’s in the grave yard your an outsider. She must be the 5 or 6 generation of her family that has lived here. My kids are automatically accepted as locals. I am tolerated because I married in. Everyone else can go and get fucked as far as I can make out.
It’s quite possible, from my experience, her son’s estranged wife is also his sister.
My neighbours are alright just nosey - mithers Mrs MB something dreadful - I don’t care either way. I think I know my neighbours names but that’s about it. All except old Colin at the bottom of the close, he is a blue so we naturally have a good old natter.