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This is a question Neighbours

I used to live next door to a pair of elderly naturists, only finding out about their hobby when they bade me a cheerful, saggy 'Hello' while I was 25 feet up a ladder repairing the chimney. Luckily, a bush broke my fall, but the memory of a fat, naked man in an ill-fitting wig will live with me forever.

(, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:41)
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Running water
About ten years ago, after a long-term relationship finished, I ended up renting a flat in a high-rise block on the Old Kent Road - 17 floors up, 270-degree views of the City, Canary Wharf, etc (okay, you had to move rooms for the full effect but you get the idea), well-maintained (it was owned by the City of London Corporation rather than Southwark Council which ran the way dodgy estate next door). Nice place all round, I liked it.

I only ever met one set of neighbours, and it was on my first full day there. I worked nights at the time, didn't always get adequate sleep during the day, spent too much time in the pub as well. I was working that night and thought I'd have a nice bath before I went in. Then the phone rang. It was my brother and we had a chat for ten minutes or so. By which time I'd forgotten all about the bath.

When I got off the phone with my brother, I decided to have a quick cat-nap, only to be woken up a short time later by some loud banging on the door. I swung a foot out of bed and thought "Where the fuck is all this water coming from?"

Ah. The bath.

I started baling the flat out for all I was worth with whatever was at hand - pans, cups, glasses, whatever, also eventually answered the door to find a rather irate Glaswegian gentleman (who lived in the flat downstairs) and who was a bit upset at all the water dripping into his flat from above and threatening to report me to all kinds of people.

Eventually I managed to mop everything up, the following day I bought some of that stuff plumbers use to clear drains (the pipe was blocked which is why the overflow didn't work). Also, went downstairs to check all was okay and offer the guy some money to take his missus out for a meal as my way of saying sorry (okay, a bribe), but he'd calmed down and said "No, you're fine".

I also applied a subtle bit of psychology - I grew up in London with accent to match, but I'm from Scotland, so I made sure I was wearing my Scotland football shirt. Must have worked because we ended up having a chat about the game coming up that weekend.

So, in a year or so of living on the Old Kent Road, that's the one and only time a met a neighbour (rather than someone who simply lives nearby). And writing the above, I'm amazed I didn't electrocute myself, or end up in the flat downstairs or something....
(, Wed 7 Oct 2009, 8:22, 1 reply)
Is that the flats across from Asda? Near Malborough Grove?

Live pretty close to there myself.
(, Wed 7 Oct 2009, 11:17, closed)

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