In the occasional previously-untitled series People In My Neighbourhood Who Sing (first entry here), there’s now two new entries:
1. Last night, my upstairs neighbours had a party. They’re relative new to the building, and their predecessors had lots of loud house music thudding parties that always seemed to be announced by a notice next to the letterboxes about an hour before the parties started. The new neighbours actually came ’round and smilingly apologised in advance and offered an invite to drop by if I wanted to. Anyway, I geared up for some pillow-strapped-to-my-head-trying-to-sleep action, but in the end, it was quite gentle. Especially considering I am a bit of an old curmudgeon when it comes to parties, with a moody pout on standby as soon as I hear footfall through the ceiling. So they were listening to some nice music (Out Of Time by Blur, Be My Baby by Vanessa Paradis), then suddenly, just as I was making some toast in the kitchen, beneath their open windows, I heard some real singing. A bunch of women (and possibly a man, too) singing something old-sounding and extremely jolly and melodic. I stood by the open window, listened to it all, and saw a couple of other neighbours at their windows too. It was lovely.
2. This one freaked me out, it was like one of those TV adverts where they have someone “bad”-looking who totally flips your preconceptions. It’s 9.30 on a Sunday morning, taking Billy out for a poo. Only other people around are yawning their way to cafes for breakfast. Then, a skinhead. Tall, strong build, the big Doctor Martens, pale blue jeans with turned-up cuffs, etc. He was striding along the pavement singing the Bacharach and David song, I’ll Never Fall In Love Again. Hurrah.
Anyway, after the whole Miami thing, I’ve had a few blogging-free days. And you know what? It’s really easy to get out of the habit, and forget what to do. Especially after a few posts that were based on atypical days of my life, coming back to the normal world of neighbours and dog-walking has been a bit odd. I need to plug in my brain again and stop thinking about Beyoncé’s bikini.