I love you guys. No, really, I do. I mean, I love that when I ran into one of you in the street this morning, even though we were DIRECTLY OUTSIDE OUR RESPECTIVE HOUSES we felt happy to pretend not to see one another. This isn’t sarcasm: I love that. I love that you guys want as little to do with us as we do with you. I love that your children have never banged on the door to sell us chocolates to raise money for their… swim team or whatever. I love that you have never invited as over for a ‘getting to know you’ drink and probably never will. I love the giant wall you have built between our houses, which only serves to emphasis how little we want to do with one another. All of this is just aces.
There’s only one small thing I don’t love and I hate to bring it up but it’s the gap. You know what I mean, the two metre fucking gap between the new giant wall and the shitty old fence. Yes, that gap you have inefficiently covered with a bit of metal railing. The one that lets us see into your backyard and, presumably, allows you to see into ours. The gap that permits your beagle to stare at me as I perform the naked run to the washing line, wheezing through his whiskers. I’m not a fan. I like my privacy. I like my backyard to be mine. I like my walls.
Lest we forget: good fences make good neighbours.