Mr Furlong and I have new neighbours.
For six months the flat next door has been empty. The story has been that it was snapped up by a couple in a midland town who had never even seen it. They bought it directly off the Internet. They bought it immediately it was listed.
Seems the story was true. They took six months to get here because of complications to selling their own house. British property laws must be the strangest and most medieval in the world! Nobody ever knows if the deal has gone through until the very day of moving. I have heard of people arriving at their new home behind the removal van, only to find the sale has fallen through for some technical reason, or delayed, and they have to find lodgings for themselves and all their furniture.
It’s insane.
So we have met the neighbours.
They shine much brighter than we do here in the neighborhood.
They are old just like the rest of us. They have brought with them blue ceramic pots very similar to ours, so our back gardens are going to ‘match’ They have put tall, elegant wire things up in the garden that might be bird feeders.
I have ascertained they have no pets of any kind, nor ever have had even though having had children. This might be a sign of a perculairity. But the bird feeders if they materialise, might absolve them from this defect.
They are cis white and retired teachers into fitness maybe. They ‘feel’ like Greens. There are no Greens here nor fitness practitioners. But cis white and retired teachers there are.
But (or should this be And?)
they WALK!
Yesterday they went for an early morning walk – a round trip of about six miles to a National Trust castle we have here. They are National Trust members evidently.
Am I right in guessing that it must have taken them over three hours to do this before anyone in this little neighborhood had even shuffled into their kitchens to make their morning coffees?