Neighbours Part XV

Our block of flats has a new villain. It’s the new chap at Number 6. He moved in just four months ago, but he’s already demonstrated a selfish, inconsiderate streak. And the evidence is there, plain as day, for all to see. He won’t deny it either, as he doesn’t really seem to stop and chat to anyone. You might be wondering, what has happened. Well, let me tell you.

The other day, one of the girls of the block left a stack of Easter chocolate on the window sill by the entrance, along with a little note saying, ‘Free to a good home’. I grabbed a photo of some of it, which you can see above. I think it was Hot Lady at Number 8. I’m sure it’s her writing. And she’s been exercising a lot, so sacrificing a chocolate feast makes a certain amount of sense.

You can probably see where this is going. The whole lot disappeared. All of it. And a day or two later, all the empty boxes and wrappers appeared in the recycling bin, amongst the stuff thrown out by Number 6. You can see it’s Number 6 straightaway, because the Amazon boxes are all round them, delivery label side up. He didn’t even try and hide it. Heck, if I didn’t know better, it was his funny little way of bragging that he’d had it all.

You might be wondering, if there was still chocolate on the window sill when I took the photo, why didn’t I help myself to some? Oh I did. I took the lot. Every last egg and bar. And very tasty they were too. But I’m not silly. You don’t think I’d openly dispose of the evidence within my pile of recycling, do you??

I know. Crafty…


Easter Egg Hunt

There are no toilet rolls, bottles of hand sanitiser or bags of pasta on the shop shelves. There’s no fresh chicken. Little to no beef. Indeed, I’m looking at roadkill in a slightly different light with each passing day. There aren’t any eggs either. But I had a plan. A truly cunning plan. So Mrs P and I jumped in the car and put my plan into action.

That plan basically involved driving about 30 miles into the countryside to a small church. Fitting, as all we could do was pray that my plan would work. Next to the church is a little lane leading down to a small cottage. And, if memory served me right, outside the front door of that cottage I would find a box. A box labelled ‘Free Range Eggs’

We drove. We prayed. We found the box. We prayed a little more. We opened the box. Had we been beaten to it by other egg starved townies with better egg hunting skills? We had not! Inside were seven boxes of fresh eggs. At £1.20 a box they are also incredibly cheap. We were tempted to take the lot. But we are not selfish dicks. So we took just what we need, put the right coinage in the honesty box, and left. Feeling very pleased with ourselves.

We then went on another 20 miles to a small farm shop. It lies half way up a hill, a short ride up a dirt track. It truly is in the middle of nowhere. But it is a treasure trove of basic fresh foods. We bought what we needed. Fresh milk dispensed by tap from a barrel. A couple of bags of earthy potatoes. A butternut squash. Some frozen burgers.

We shall survive another week. Hurrah.