That’s When Good Neighbours, Become Good Friends

August 2009, a usual Saturday morning pottering around in my pajamas, but wait – hark! What is that noise!?! People in the garden next door? Moving in! GAH! No more naked kitchen for me then (of course, by that I mean Jamie Oliver watching).

I instantly took myself upstairs to clean myself and get dressed to make the initial greeting – which went something along the lines of – ooh you are the same age as me… any single friends?

A cider was thrust into my hands and what can I say, I’ve been there almost every day since!

Terri and Martyn (or Lady T, Tezla, T to the Minus G and Perfection Personified Himself) are simply the best! They feed me, give me brews on demand. Look after the cats when I go away. They have even been known to mow lawns and wash windows for me too! Amongst many other things!

They have been on hand for support when meeting a man (Terri made a fine Cilla for a while), breaking from a man (sorry Cilla). They are just fab!

The other side, less so – but I won’t disclose that information on here for fear she is watching me!