..and sometimes it's only when they do, that you realise they were good things in the first place. I could apply this to many areas of my life right now but I think it's a bit early in the week for deep thinking. No, instead I will tell you that 'A', the kitchen waving buddy who made an indecent proposal over a ham and cheese croissant just before Christmas - him - well, he's moving out of his flat to another part of London, so the days of waving at me (or The Silverback) from behind the kitchen sink, as he rinses his breakfast dishes (with nothing but a towel to protect his honour) are over. I wonder who will move in next?
I think he's feeling quite nostalgic because the guitar came out last night. Definitely original material he was singing - I say singing - I thought someone had gone into labour - but no, it was only A lamenting his last days in the mansion block.
While I've come to love living here - and if there were more storage and the landlord knocked a couple hundred thousand off the asking price, I'd be pushing to buy it, we don't plan on staying long term either. Funnily enough we've been looking at flats in the same area as 'A' - not by design I hasten to add but by sheer insane chance. Wouldn't it be absolutely freaking hilarious (erm, maybe) to end up neighbours again.
I have to say though in all my years of living in flats and converted houses in London, I've been very lucky with neighbours. I mean, for starters there's A - how many of you can say you've been propositioned by a virtual stranger eh? and one that turned out to be so nice... if totally inappropriate.
Before A, there was O. Before Maida Valle, there was Queens Park (this was before there was Canada) and in Queens Park there was a boy living in the flat below us who is quite simply THE best looking man I've ever seen in real life. Ask The Silverback - I think the Silverback fell in love with him before I did. This man is not a man but a god: Six foot tall, body like an Adonis (think Ryan Phillipe, Matthew McConaughey or Brad Pitt in Fight Club fit) and a face like an angel sent from A list heaven. Seriously, he is a cross between Jude Law and Jesus H. Christ. A complete player though. I mean you would be if you looked like him. He is the sort of man of whom it can be said, can truly have his pick of the women. And he does, daily.
The Silverback and I had to make do with gazing into his baby blues as he regailed us with shagadelic tales of conquest. We weren't listening of course - even the Dalai Lama would lose his trail of thought if O were to walk in on one of his meditations. One minute he'd be silently chanting his mantra and the next he be catatonic in need of an ice cold bath.
I've never had a bad neighbour now that I think about it. Never. Not really. I've had neighbours I've never spoken to but that's not a bad thing nor did it make them bad. I can remember my very first neighbour in London, a West Indian family who threw the very best parties and had a quality record collection too. This was when I still lived with my mum. After that I lived next to an Australian hippy who would exercise naked in the back garden with a Samurai sword. I kid you not. I was always wary in the mornings of looking out the bedroom window, unsure as to what might be there to greet my tired eyes.
However, I had him round for dinner one day because while he was clearly bonkers, he was also fun and different. He turned up, fully dressed thankfully and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get him onto the subject of these naked shenanigans. The very next day, it was pouring rain so I thought I'd be ok to go right ahead and open the curtains without fear of willies or buttocks jerking around at close proximity only to find Mike (for that was this exotic man's name) up to his old tricks but this time he'd roped his new male flatmate into exercising naked with him too. Before I could dive for cover, they'd caught my eye and were motioning for me to join them.
It's safe to say it was one of those unforgettable moments in life where I literally didn't know whether to shit or go blind.
So actually, all things said and done 'A' isn't bad at all and we shall miss him.
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