What she was inferring was that Whanganui is very small and everyone knows everyone. It’s, quite frankly, too small for her.
There are two types of people in this world, no matter where you live: neighbourly people and people who are not.
Said neighbour from the venue had just helped Mum and I chase our recycling down the street a couple of weeks prior and also rescued our bin for us.
We were immeasurably grateful for this gesture and we always say hello to her and her partner.
I am constantly amazed that two people can have four children who are so different.
One of my brothers and I are a lot more social and have relationships with our neighbours and two would find that their worst nightmare.
If I lived next door to my youngest brother, I think it would be enough for him to sell his house and move.
My father and I are sentimentalists. They moved to Foxton with two children in 1972. We lived in a schoolhouse in Mark Perreau Place.
Two more children followed and they bought a piece of land in the same street and built a house for the princely sum of $13,600 in 1975/76.
It was an idyllic way to grow up. There was a cul-de-sac at the end of the street and all the neighbours knew one another and all the neighbourhood kids played together.
Mark Perreau Pl is just off SH1 as you drive through Foxton and when we drive past, Dad and I always stop and drive down the street (or memory lane).
As time progressed, one of Mum and Dad’s neighbours sold them their tennis court and swimming pool for roughly $3000. That then gave us 11 neighbours, a lot of whom had gates so that we could all come and go.
When people say “just my neighbour”, they underestimate the impact some people can have. That neighbour of ours, Roy Allan, became the role model that Dad based his whole adult life on.
He and his wife Beryl were an integral part of our lives. Family, community, honesty and loyalty were how he lived his life. He walked the talk.
Neighbours are like your family, you can’t pick them. You inherit them when you move, good or bad.
I’m a firm believer though that, as with everything, you get out what you put in.
I’m not ignorant enough to not know when I’m not wanted; however, in these trying times, the thing to remember is that kindness and helpfulness are free.
Living with my parents, on one side we have a young couple with a 5-year-old and a 20-month-old. They are such a great family and the parents work so hard.
I help when I can because I know it makes a difference.
It’s been a reminder about the constant juggle and relentlesness of parenting, so if they can come home and their lawn is mown by me, I know they appreciate it.
If I can babysit, I do it and they reciprocate in other ways. It takes a village to raise a child and all that.
I think good neighbours are a gift.
I know this because I have had the odd crappy one, but never enough to make the “Neighbours From Hell” short-list.
I had a wonderful little nighbourhood when I lived at the front of a three-house drive in Whanganui East.
We would all help each other or cook if someone needed something and we genuinely cared for one another.
I still go back and drive past that house I lived in because I miss it and them. Mostly I miss my daughter, who lived there with me. We will never get that time back. It’s like picking a scab every time I drive past. To be honest, I don’t know why I do it to myself.
I can hear people reading this now and thing “thank God we don’t have Nicky as our neighbour”. My younger brother would concur. I do cook a mean lasagne and pavalova, though - that generally got shared with neighbours. There are upsides (unless you are vegan, then you’re out of luck).
“Love Thy Neighbour” is a saying for a reason and at the moment, just one nice gesture might be the difference between them having a bad day or a great one.
