Not counting neighbours we had while in various student flats, who were fine but not memorable we have been very lucky with our neighbours.
First house, a terrace in a street of terraced houses of various shapes.
Very kind next door neighbours and lovely people in the street. When we moved and were driving away in the car they all came out to wave us off. I was in floods of tears.
We were moving 120 miles away for DH's job to a semi. A West Indian family lived next door and they loved their reggae; luckily so did we.
When we were selling that house and a viewing was imminent DH popped round to ask if they would mind turning it down for an hour. It was so loud they couldn't hear what he was saying and thought he was asking them to turn it up. When they eventually realised what he was saying, lots of merry laughter and they turned it completely off.
The viewers bought the nice quiet house.
We then moved to a larger Edwardian semi and lived there for 14 years with never a cross word with our delightful neighbours. Even when we lit a fire in our dining room and it smoked out their bedroom. The road was very sociable and when we moved from there we were declared to be honorary XXXroaders.
Now we live in a large Victorian house, detached so no close contact because next door, a similar house, is in seven flats and we can't see the entrance so don't know any of the tenants/owners.
Except one.
She is an elderly lady but very active to the extent that she puts our bins out and puts then back, all unasked, and tells me all about the problems with parking at the flats and gets me to compose and print fierce notices for her to put through her neighbours' letterboxes. When we are away she prowls around checking all is well with our house.
We have been truly blessed with nearly 50 years of fabulous neighbours.