Neighbors

Ministerial Meandering

Neighbours

Some people like ‘em - I’m not so good at it if I’m honest.  I just wish that they weren’t quite so close.

Just in the last week we’ve had to deal with three out of five that impinge directly onto our property, and in the last month - a fourth.  To be fair, it hasn’t been entirely their fault - but who wants to be fair?

We had a ‘significant’ wind storm about a month ago, which knocked down the fences abutting three of our ‘impingers’, and these had to be repaired with some haste, as all but one of said neighbours have dogs.

I found out about the damage following the wind storm the next morning, when I went to let Gracie out into the yard.  On opening the back door, we came face to face with a large Bernese Mountain dog.  Gracie - about half the size - made it very clear in a matter of seconds that this was her yard, and interlopers, however beautiful, were not invited.

So with some Heath-Robinson techniques, I managed, with help, to patch up two of the fences; the third was dealt with by the neighbour himself.  Later, one of the other neighbours felt that a better job was required - and, for a monetary agreement, did a much improved repair.  I would like to point out that said neighbours are around thirty or more years younger than I am, and seem to have access to instant concrete and 4x4s.  That’s the wood - not the vehicle.

The fourth neighbour has a tree.  This tree wants very much to be on our driveway; and we very much don’t want it to be.  The tree - a fine specimen that periodically needs attention from BC Hydro, because it bangs in a threatening way on our power cables, and is only an ace away from bringing them and the adjoining pole down - also happens to be behind a corner of our neighbour’s white plastic fence.

However, with each wind storm - for which Agassiz is famous - the trunk of this quite considerable tree leans like a tired elephant into the side of the fence and bends it, with accompanying squeaks and squeals of terrified plastic, such that passers-by look to see who is doing what to their pet pig.

But my neighbour likes his tree.  He doesn’t want to cut it down, nor does he intend doing anything about the bowed and complaining fence, which is now cracked, and part of which is promising to join my car on the drive.  For the above reasons - I don’t like his tree.

This is not the first time I have spoken to him about his arboreal imperative - nor, indeed, is it for Sheila.  He stubbornly refuses to do diddly-squat about it.

Oh - I nearly forgot to tell you about the last neighbour’s fence repair.  Since the fence at the end of his garden (not adjoining our property) also fell down in the storm, he decided to replace the whole surround of his garden with new fencing.  In black metal.  Sheila was - and is - horrified, since the job was finished this afternoon.  We now live next door to a gulag whose appearance would do credit to the Gates of Hell.  But - of course - our neighbour likes it.

I have to say I’m really pleased we’re moving to France in 6 months - to a rental with no visible domicile nearby.  I guess I’m just not too neighbourly…or is it them?

Philip+