Calaber
Nil Bastardo Carborundum
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- Nov 29, 2007
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With a couple of other posts current about neighbourhood relations, I thought a thread where we can outline our experiences with nut-case neighbours might be worth a go.
On my other thread, I briefly mentioned an Irish woman that lived opposite us when I was only seven. We had moved into our new (Housing Commission) house (back in the days when you bought them, not trashed them) two days prior to Christmas, 1959.
My old man was a Pom. As soon as this old witch over the road discovered that, she decided to have here own IRA operate from her loungeroom. She would call the cops for every little thing. ONe day, the police came to the door asking to see my folks younger son. My father asked if they had the right address and were they sure the police wanted the younger son, not me. My brother was just two years of age. He was supposed to have chucked a roof tile onto her front yard. Obvioulsy, he hadn't, and neither had I.
As we grew up, this old hag was less intimidating and more entertaining. I was mowing the front path one day and she came across with a handful of stones. She chucked them on the path in front of me and said "They're not mine". I revved the old Briggs and Stratton up to full bore, lifted the front wheel of the mower off the deck, and chased the old bitch back into her yard. She left me alone after that for many years. One of her drunken sons died in the street one night with a bag full of grog beside him. MY old man walked around him going to work the next morning, thinking he had fallen asleep.
Yep, life in North Balgowlah was interesting in the 60's and 70's. I could go on but this post is long enough already.
So, your experiences?
On my other thread, I briefly mentioned an Irish woman that lived opposite us when I was only seven. We had moved into our new (Housing Commission) house (back in the days when you bought them, not trashed them) two days prior to Christmas, 1959.
My old man was a Pom. As soon as this old witch over the road discovered that, she decided to have here own IRA operate from her loungeroom. She would call the cops for every little thing. ONe day, the police came to the door asking to see my folks younger son. My father asked if they had the right address and were they sure the police wanted the younger son, not me. My brother was just two years of age. He was supposed to have chucked a roof tile onto her front yard. Obvioulsy, he hadn't, and neither had I.
As we grew up, this old hag was less intimidating and more entertaining. I was mowing the front path one day and she came across with a handful of stones. She chucked them on the path in front of me and said "They're not mine". I revved the old Briggs and Stratton up to full bore, lifted the front wheel of the mower off the deck, and chased the old bitch back into her yard. She left me alone after that for many years. One of her drunken sons died in the street one night with a bag full of grog beside him. MY old man walked around him going to work the next morning, thinking he had fallen asleep.
Yep, life in North Balgowlah was interesting in the 60's and 70's. I could go on but this post is long enough already.
So, your experiences?