Neighbours and pants

I love Pog Towers – it’s just the right size for me and Norman Cat.  We just aren’t too keen on the neighbours.

We have quite bad neighbour issues on one side of noise, children picking my flowers, their rubbish in my garden…  I could go on, but you get the picture.  On the other side I have Y – fronts man, who, as soon as there is a ray of sunshine, whips off his clothes and wanders round his (very small) garden in his white Y-fronts.  Since my first summer here, I’ve grown the bushes on my side to avoid as many accidental eyefuls as possible, and that is why when I just went to get my washing in I made sure I was facing the garden on the other side.

And there I was unpegging my washing as the neighbour’s brother (who, I assume has moved in with the other 289 family members who seem to live there at any one time) came out into the back garden and studied his reflection while he struck a few poses in the conservatory windows.  In his pants.  What is it with my neighbours and their pants?! We then had that very awkward moment when it dawned on him that someone was watching, turned round and caught my eye, and attempted a disinterested saunter back inside.

Since I started writing this, Y-fronts man has come out for a spot of gardening and is currently swearing, loudly and repeatedly at a plant which presumably is not fulfilling its plant role.  I can’t tell from here if Y-fronts are also involved…

Norman and I might love it, but I am thinking that we need to invest in a six foot fence.  That, or we need to move to a shed in the middle of a field.  Yes, that would be perfect: no neighbours at all.  Just a whole heap of wildlife for Norman to bring home and hide….  Ah, bugger.

And unrelated, but for a Friday smile, here are some pictures I took this week of the window of a travel clinic.  Look at the labels :o)

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