Neighbours

We don’t know our neighbours very well, but all the people who live near us all seem very pleasant, and are certainly friendly. Next door but two lives a single man, Keith with his dog Scruffy, an old sheep dog kind of dog. When we first moved here, Keith’s parents lived in the house; they were very elderly and after some years the old chap died. His mother continued to live there and Keith moved in. I think the old lady must have moved to different accommodation, or maybe she too has died but we haven’t seen her for a while.

Recently Keith put the house on the market, and luckily for him it’s sold really quickly. we were talking to another local, Shirley, a lady who has lived here since the estate was built, and I happened to mention how pleased I was for Keith that his house sale had gone through so quickly.

“Who’s Keith? asked Shirley.
“The chap who lives next door but two from us.”
Shirley looks puzzled… “You mean at number 39?”
“No, Keith who lives at number 40…”
“His name’s Peter!”
“Good grief! All these years, whenever we’ve seen him we’ve said ‘hello Keith!’ … and we see him most days taking Scruffy for a walk!”
“Who’s Scruffy?”
“Keith’s – I mean Peter’s dog…”
“Peter’s dog is called Jessie…”
“Ho-hum…”