Thursday, 10 February 2011

Balconies, Dogs and Dates

Other than the unfortunate arrival of our chum Bonny on Monday, BOF and I have been strenuously trying to make friends with the rest of our building. DIY Man Downstairs has been stinking out the staircase this weekend with industrial quantities of turps. The whole place smells like pear drops, and visitors to the Pad are looking pretty high by the time they get to our top floor doorway.

'the terrace'?

We've also received word that the extravagant characters in the flat directly beneath us are planning 'balcony improvements' over the next few weeks. But our building is balcony-free. Surely they have no balcony to improve? We are baffled. And jealous. However, we cope by fully opening our kitchen window, and calling that 'the terrace'.

Next door lives a dog called Growler. With no visit from Dogface imminent, despite a visit from MD planned for tomorrow, I have been befriending him. Poor chap, his stomach brushes the floor as he speeds up the stairs on tiny little legs. Occasionally he loses impetus before reaching the top floor, so scuttles back down again, confused.

His owner ('Pretty Neighbour'), a snazzy-looking girl, has been befriending us. She too skips up the stairs. She sings as she dashes in and out of next door. She greets us enthusiastically at every opportunity: 'Hello Kate! Hello BOF! How's it going? Beautiful morning isn't it? Yeah?'

One problem. We don't know her name. And we don't know how to learn it. It's been two months now - bit late to start introducing ourselves, especially when she, unlike us, seems to have an excellent memory for names.

BOF has contrived a plan involving getting her to go on a date with him. But we can't work out if this would help. If anything, it might make things worse. Also, it's possible that she's going out with one of the other chaps who lives next door. Which could make things awkward.

Coming up the stairs yesterday, we see Pretty Neighbour's flat door open, and she pokes her head out.

'Oh hello,' we say.

She withdraws abruptly: 'Oh god sorry that's embarrassing - I haven't got any clothes on! Sorry sorry! How silly of me.' She laughs and shuts the door again.

We retreat into the Pad and make for the terrace.

'I think I'm in there,' confides BOF.


'Third time that's happened this week.'


  1. This is your best work in there. I'm rooting for BOF.

  2. Maybe say you may have a package coming and could you get her FULL (so she thinks u know the first) name and address in case you are out e.t.c.?

    Or just check her mail :P