letter

Today we received a letter from our neighbour. Not the one further down the row of houses with the interesting love life (no further developments on that score - we still see them together all the time though), but the one next-door who occupies the house at the end of our short terrace. Single woman, teacher (private, secondary), perhaps in her late forties. She wrote to politely request we keep the noise of the TV down after 11pm. Perhaps because we never hear our neighbours (and on the other side is a couple with two screaming-age children) we assumed they couldn't hear us. Anyway, this is a reasonable request, the walls are obviously thinner than we'd thought.
However, that wasn't the point of telling you about the letter.

She also mentioned that one of the fence panels dividing our gardens (i.e. on the fence we own) has started to rot at the bottom. It has, in fact, been rotting for quite some time and she has tried to get us to replace it before (which, looking back through my archives, I can't believe I didn't blog about at the time) but with a taller fence panel. This, I suppose, is for privacy, because if she happened to be standing in the furthest corner of her conservatory and we happened to be standing in the furthest corner of ours, we'd be able to see each other.

But that would never happen. We hardly ever use our conservatory. Sometimes, like today, I use it for working in, but that is a rare occurrence. It obviously bugs her as, not long after she moved in, she had blinds fitted and has them permanently down on the side that faces us.
If we really had a burning desire to spy into her conservatory, all we'd have to do is go upstairs and look out the back bedroom window, we can see right in, with a bird's eye view.

The last time she decided we needed fence panels replacing she offered to pay for half of it. We weren't that bothered about having the work done; the panels didn't desperately need replacing, but were probably not going to last another year. We thought we'd take advantage of the offer and had two of the panels replaced. I'm going to say it again, I really can't believe I didn't blog about this at the time because the quote was exorbitant. I seem to remember it was something like £135 for a fencing company to come and install two panels and replace a fence post - considering the cheapest fence panels on the market at the time were something like £10 each and the company were already doing work in her garden installing a hideous gigantic pergola 'thing' and replacing her existing perfectly good fence panels with new ones (which she herself admitted was only so they all matched).

However, she hasn't suggested in this latest letter that we replace the rotting panel, she was just pointing it out. But we know what she really means, cos we saw* a man in her garden yesterday inspecting the fence. He had a hi-vis jacket on and a clipboard.

Anyway, we have no intention of replacing it just because it's a tiny bit rotten at the bottom. Eco-principles and general stubbornness forbid it. I don't know why she's bothered to point it out to us because, with those blinds permanently down, she can't even see it.
And it's not like she spends a great deal of time in her 'garden'. I use that term loosely because there is no grass and very few plants. Just that massive pergola (with nothing growing up it), some paving and gravel. Perhaps if she actually had some plants in there it might disguise the rotting panel - heck, it might even help to prop the fence up for a bit longer.

Gah, I say. Gah!

We haven't replied to the letter yet. Might just print this out and send it to her instead.
Shyeah, riiight.

* I have previously posted about being accused of being a nosy neighbour, but this time it was Husband who noticed the bloke in her garden. To be honest, when you live in a property the size of ours, you can't help but notice; it's in your field of vision if you look out the back.

Comments

[Carolyn]

Your neighbour intrigues me though I wish it was the other one (the not-having-an-affair-with-the other-neighbour one). Does she have thin walls? How can she hear your TV, ffs!? My neighbour complained once about 'the banging doors'; admittedly we have adjoining walls... but the only door we close is to the loo and can't imagine we bang it! He soon moved out. We obviously banged the door once too often!

[Kirsty]

Perhaps these photos from the album I made when we had the conservatory built might help you to visualise just how tightly packed together we are:

This one was taken at the far end of our garden, the house on the left is now hers (you can just see the edge of her conservatory) and the house on the right is the screaming-age kids house.

This one shows how you can't really help noticing what goes on in her garden (pre-'gigantic hideous pergola thing') - this is the view we get if we look out of our patio doors. The fence panel in question is the one clearly in view on the right.

She told us in the letter that she sleeps in the room adjacent to our back bedroom and our upstairs TV is right next to her bedroom wall.

I'm off out to see my friend W tonight, she used to live in that house about 6 years ago and has previously said that the only time she could hear us was if we thundered up and down the stairs.

[kiirstin]

I don't understand how some people (i.e. your neighbor) can have such little self-awareness.

[Kirsty]

So, I dropped a note through her door yesterday to say I was sorry we'd disturbed her with the noise and hoped she'd noticed we'd tried to keep the noise down after 11 these past couple of nights. I also thanked her for pointing out the fence but, unfortunately, there wasn't enough room on the card to say we had no intention of doing anything about it just yet. Oops.

Anyhow, we got a handwritten reply this evening (her first letter was rather formally typed) to thank us for keeping the noise down - she said she hasn't heard us at all since.

[Kathryn]

If the fence/privacy is such an issue for her, she should build a fence of her own.

[Kirsty]

It wouldn't surprise me if she did!

[Miko]

I live in a typical high-rise - no garden, but our verandahs are separated by thin partitions. My poor neighbours and their trials and tribulations! First of all, my cat has killed all their windowbox plants. Secondly, my son has a piano that he likes to pound on first thing in the morning and last thing at night. And thirdly, I'm refusing to take part on the panel of the neighbourhood association (even though it's compulsory, we are supposed to take annual turns) because I can't be bothered. I think I might be the neighbour from hell.

[Steve]

I'd watch her, she sounds like trouble.