THE NEIGHBOURS

Veronica and the Gate Keeper

Living in an apartment building in New York means the neighbours will be interesting. We share a dog-walker with a TV news anchor-woman who makes Veronica Corningstone look feeble. The Gate keeper, a very old lady in a lot of make-up and a young Chinese man live in the apartment opposite ours, which seems to have two entrances. After posting spies to check exactly who comes in and goes out, OK, spying on them myself through our peephole while ensuring the draft excluder is in place and no-one can see my feet, I have ascertained that both doors lead to the same apartment. Or, there is some kind of interconnecting thing going on inside because all three people come and go from both front doors.  I say it's wierd. My husband says this is clear evidence that I need to start earning a living or reading a book.

Veronica meanwhile, lives a few floors down. She is absolutely charming and lovely in person, quietly spoken and very nice. To accidentally come across her on screen though is to jump back in alarm, call for others for back-up and run round the flat screaming  'did she really just say that?' It's always a neck-snapping, ear-splitting moment and well worth remembering when she's on - the one blip in the plan. It beats Dartmouth Park Road, where our neighbour's children would wait for the first flowers of spring to appear in our garden, then lean over the fence and pull their heads off (the flowers, not their own heads though I was often tempted). Vigilant, that's moi.

By the way, no matter what your neighbours do it is crucial to never, ever fall out with them. Steve/Pete/Paul or someone from Benham & Reeves once told me this can be Property Selling Suicide. However, there is a certain satisfaction that comes from knowing exactly what they are all up to,  most of the time. Or so I'm told...