Flashing Neighbours

When I was little my neighbourhood was a community, everyone knew everyone else, even as a kid I knew most of their names up and down the street and around the corner. We were free to roam around (within reason) with no fear of safety. It was neighbourhood watch before it was a thing.

Our very next door neighbours were like family and to this day, even though we no longer live next door, even though we have grown up, they are still family. Admittedly there was no fence between our houses which made it very easy to blur the lines. I never thought twice about whether it was ok to turn up on their back porch in nothing but my birthday suit to taste the latest baking, to smell their roses, or as I got older just to have a chat. And I never thought twice to invite them to significant events in my life as I moved away and grew up.

When I first moved out of home to go to university, away from family and neighbours I rented and it was a bit of a shock to the system to quickly learn that no one really wanted to know anyone else. Everyone put their heads down, ignored anything happening around them and just came across as very unfriendly. Though maybe I didn’t make much of an effort either.

I’v e had some interesting neighbours during this let’s-call-it-a-transition phase. There was the Russian that played ping pong in his garage and dug holes in his yard at night. The ex-policeman that I only discovered after being broken in to one Christmas. The mysterious man under police survellience that never left his house and stayed awake until 2 in the morning watching movies in his backyard. There were the ‘screamers’ that rocked the walls at night during my uni days. The Dutch girl who always wore a short white onesie. The screaming, swearing teenagers and the screaming swearing parents that argued every day. The country music lover, need I say more. And this is before I even get started on the terrors of house mates that lived within my 4 walls!

Now, as a home owner I am thrilled that we have moved into a picture perfect neighbourhood. It is a bit surreal really, and feels a little Stepford-ish. Everyone has been so friendly and welcoming. There is a bit of pressure to have an immaculate front yard (thanks to the retirees who spend all day perfecting theirs) and we have been told (warned could be a better word) that at Christmas time the whole street gets involved and decorates their homes.

It has begun – the flashing lights, the crowded street at night, kids shouting out in squeals of delight in the darkness, carols drifting across the cool night air. We can’t say that we weren’t warned, but we are traditionalists, in that we stick with December 1st as our official Christmas launch date – the lights, the tree, the festive baking all happens on the first of the month. So there we were quietly sitting in our lounge room on the 30th and we hear the carols, we peek out the window and see flashing lights on all our neighbours homes. Shit – we missed the launch. They did it a night early! We closed our blinds and sat on the lounge in shame that we hadn’t turned our lights on yet, but we couldn’t take that first moment away from our girls (who were already tucked up in bed)! So we pretended not to notice and sat hiding in the dark.

I certainly considered doing the ditto prank, or perhaps the opps-the-grinch-stole-my-lights trick but when we did turn our lights on, avoiding all bad luck and waiting until the 1st, it was a little bit of magic all on its own. Our little string of lights shone as bright as they could amongst the houses festooned with years of accumulated lights, tinsel and decorations. It didn’t matter, we were proud of our first ever effort, and our neighbours were pretty supportive too. Of course they were, they are all so nice!

It seems that we are the early risers in our neighbourhood. The kids are out the backdoor and playing outside as soon as we unleash them which is sometime near the crack of dawn. The neighbourhood is quiet at this early hour and all you can hear is our girls racing about singing, giggling, quibbling, yelling out that the chickens have laid an egg or the sunflowers are getting bigger. But we decided that we are ok with being known as the early risers in the street, from experience we know that it could be much worse.

Despite all the noise our kids make the neighbours don’t complain, or at least they haven’t yet. They have kids of their own or they have been there done that.

It is a good feeling to come home to a welcoming street, to feel relaxed as soon as you arrive, to wave at people checking their mail or walking their dog. To borrow tools or a cup of sugar when you need to, to have someone watch your house (and collect your chicken eggs!) when you’re away, to make new friends.

If your neighbourhood is nothing like this, make the first step to be more friendly because it is usually contagious. My advice is that it can begin with something as simple as a quick wave and a hello, don’t put your head down and ignore people. Have a chat at the letterbox; introduce yourself; find a point of connection, maybe you could ask about a particular plant in their yard to get the conversation going. It doesn’t have to be an in your face door knock with a full gift basket, just keep it simple.

Do you know your neighbours or do you put your head down and hide in your fortress?
Do you have a neighbour from hell story?
Did you run riot in your neighbourhood as a kid, but keep your own kids safe at home?