Love Thy Neighbour

A long walk to the Job Centre to sign on this morning was followed predictably by a long walk back. 
Running a bath in the afternoon was not followed predictably by getting in the bath, enjoying a relaxing bath, and then getting out of the bath, but instead with one of the taps coming off in my hand, having to abandon the bath, and then a desperate rush to find the stopcock - which I eventually discovered was behind the washing machine - before the house flooded.
The remarkable thing about this episode was not my almost cartoon-like over-acting during the event, but my next door neighbour coming to my rescue. 


After three hours spent failing to repair it myself, I called upon my kindly handyman neighbour Simon to help, and he was only too happy to oblige. Simon has often come to our rescue in situations like this. He always puts himself out to fix our problems and never wants anything in return. He is just an old-fashioned neighbourly kind of man. He is always friendly and considerate, helps out with gardening, he even makes his own wine and often leaves a bottle for us on our doorstep.


In an age when most people don't even know their neighbour's names, and rarely even talk to them, today I realised how lucky I am to be able to count on mine in my hour of need. I only wish I could do something for him in return if the occasion arose, but I don't seem to be very good practically with anything in the way he does. I don't have a trade, like his plumbing, decorating and carpentry, and as much as I like to think I can be practical and have a go at it, I will usually bodge a job to save time if I can. 


I only hope one day he needs someone to show him a couple of chords on guitar or to help him alphabetisize his CD collection, because I will be there in flash - and do a bloody good job of it.