Oh buckle up, buttercups, I never knew how many I had til I started listing them for this thread 🤣
Foghorn on one side; she keeps her side door and windows open all day and was caught gossiping about me to a mutual friend who she didn’t realise was mutual.
Foghorns adult DC is known as Tealeaf, for her propensity for parcel-stealing.
Foghorns partner is Porsche Wanker: left his boot parked on the street wide open full of Christmas presents and went into the house. I was passing and casually closed his boot as a reflex (and a favour - we had had a spate of local break ins at the time); he shot out of the house and screamed at me like a spitting madman for touching his car.
Over the road we have Wifebeater; posh arsehole man frequently seen shouting at his lovely wife as they get into/out of the car most days.
Next to Wifebeater is Miss Marble; a local slum landlady who has refused for a decade to do the most basic of home repairs and maintenance to her rented properties (got called out in the local paper for it), but recently had a load of solid marble kitchen worktops delivered.
A few doors over the road is Cat Psycho; he hit my cat with his car and then banged on my door trying to barge into the house to complain he ‘hadn’t killed the fucking bastard thing, if I see that fucking animal in my garden again I’ll fucking shoot it, that’s a promise, I have a shotgun in my garage and I’ll shoot that fucking cat.” Reported him to the police for possession of a firearm and threatening behaviour, and was delighted when they turned out in blues and twos and half the street were hanging out of their windows to see what the kerfuffle was. Never found out if he actually did have a shotgun, but did enjoy being obsequiously polite when his mail was misdelivered to my house a few weeks later and he sheepishly knocked on my door to ask me to check my mailbox for it. Bonus points to my treacherous troll of a cat, who came and sat on the doorstep and curled around his legs rubbing his head and molting fur all over his fancy suit trousers while I (slowly) rummaged for his post.
On my left are the Lovelies: we moved in in lockdown and didn’t get to know many people but they always smiled and waved from the doorstep and shouted pleasantries. We didn’t learn each others names for ages (until the annual Christmas card exchange) so would just say ‘Hi Lovely!’ when we saw each other… even though we know their names now they’re still The Lovelies.
Then there’s Mystery Foot Lady; accidentally posted a photo very clearly meant for her husband in the neighbourhood WhatsApp. I don’t actually know who she is, it’s a long bloody road, but no amount of mind bleach will erase what her feet look like awkwardly clutching a large banana. I wish I was joking. Banging pedicure, terrible tech skills.
A few doors down is Hairdresser Sue, who is neither a hairdresser nor called Sue.
Next to HS is John Bob; retired teacher called John with a dog called Bob who I see on the local green most days.
Round the corner, and not to be confused with John Bob, is Bobby John; ex-copper who jacked it all in after 20 years to become a dog walker and is the happiest guy I know, with the most interesting stories.
Halfway down the road is The Wisteria Vandal. Bought a house absolutely covered in a 20ish year old well established wisteria (at a guess) who ripped it off almost immediately and incinerated it in the front garden.
I work shifts so often have my lights on at weird hours, am bipolar and autistic, and do not vibe with the ‘instagram grey velvet house/aesthetic holiday decor’ feel of the neighbourhood - deliberately decorate for Halloween and Christmas in the most mismatched, jolly, gaudy shite I can find, leave my front garden wild ‘for the bees’, and sunbathe in my smalls despite being a bit of a lardass, so I’m fairly certain I know what they say about me, and I couldn’t give a shite 🤣 (I’m a quiet and polite neighbour, no ASB, put my bins out neatly, etc, but I also have the most popular house for trick or treaters every year and a garden chock full of butterflies 🙂)
I have lived on a ‘notorious’ council estate, and now live on a very desirable street where house are upwards of £1.2m (mine is the only one that isn’t, it’s smaller and v dilapidated and I rent it) and I have more badly behaved, antisocial, noisy, weekend cokehead, arsehole neighbours here than I ever did on the estate. And some v good ones, but I tend to call them by their names rather than salty monikers 🙃