Good bloody riddance....

      It all started around two years ago after a rather unpleasant encounter with a nearby neighbour. I had a considerable amount of building and gardening materials stacked up in front of the Orc’s Workshop (as my garage has been newly christened), and yes it did look a tad untidy but that is a result of running a business such as mine, especially when your garage is stuffed to the rafters with ‘stuff that one day may come in useful’! As one small nod to security I had also attached a 'no trespassing sign' onto the garage door....

Ok it's not quite this tidy...again!

     This particular day I was busily organising my van for the next day’s tasks when I heard a very well spoken woman’s voice behind me asking if  “she could have a word?”, dusting off the day’s detritus I said "certainly", expecting a neighbourly chat. I recognised the elderly woman as one who lived in one of the two more expensive houses on the road and inwardly rubbed my hands together thinking perhaps there may some work forthcoming, oh foolish mortal that I am. 

     The woman immediately launched into what I take was a well rehearsed speech, about how her and her husband were desperately trying to sell their house and that the state of my drive was affecting their asking price and was also “bringing the neighbourhood down”. I gently pointed out (when she had finally paused for breath) that the materials were for gardening projects but as I was a sole trader it takes time for myself to clear and utilise the materials because, if I am not working then unfortunately I am not earning. I also suggested that mine was not the untidiest driveway in the local as several were stacked with materials having building work carried out on there homes and one driveway in particular on the road was just plain unkept. Begrudgingly she agreed that she could indeed explain to prospective viewers that I was having building work done. I was just thinking that this was not going too bad when it took another turn, with her asking “when was I removing that sign?”. 

     The warning signals were now hammering upon my dull senses but still were yet to set off my ‘spidie senses’ although I becoming a tad wearisome of her tone. “Which sign would that be” I asked her innocently (it is the only sign on my garage, re piccy). Now understanding that she was talking to a simpleton she pointed to the no trespassing sign sharply, rather snappily saying “that one, it’s not funny and is ruining the neighbourhood “ (again?) I have to admit to being a tad irked at this point and patiently explained (perhaps slightly gritting my teeth) that the sign was a legitimate message that I did not wish uninvited people on my drive, or within my workshop as I kept my business dependant machinery within. Unfortunately this did not appease her and she kept going about how I should have more respect and do more for the community etc, etc, etc.....

     I could see that the conversation was now going around in circles as nothing I said was going to placate her, and I was also bloody hungry as it already been an exceptional long day. So I just put my hands up and explained firmly that the drive will be cleared as time and finance allowed and the sign would be remaining on my garage door. I was certainly not expecting what happened next....

     From this tall, well dressed and very well spoken lady’s mouth erupted a torrent of vile language that, to  honest, would have made a sailor blush with embarrassment! Apart from the lavish use of Anglo Saxon she screamed at me that “all my neighbours hated me and were scared of me" and she was going to waste no time in reporting me to the police and to the council. To say that I was taken aback by this outburst was as big an understatement as when one of King Harold’s henchmen suggested that “if those Normans were not careful they were going have somebody’s eye out with all them bloody arrows”. I just stood there, perplexed, as she turned and strode back towards her house, only for her to wheel around mid road and scream “you’re a f..king nutter and should be f..king locked up” before finally turning and leaving.

     Now I happen to pride myself upon being able to handle myself in most situations but this really cut me down and left me dazed. As most who visit these pages know, I suffer from severe depression and as I sat at home re-running the encounter through my head it had a massive effect upon me. I doubted myself, did not sleep at all that night and questioned myself time and time again until it was running around within my head like a frenzied tornado. The next morning found me calling in upon all my near neighbours and asking them if they had a problem with my drive, the sign and importantly with myself. All the conversations followed the same pattern with myself explaining the reason for the questions and each and everyone of them basically telling me not to be so daft and that I happened to be one of best ‘new neighbours’ in the village (had only been here three years up until then). Two of my neighbours recounted similar stories of conversations with this particular woman were she had ended up ranting at them like, as one put it, a bloody deranged banshee. 

      Feeling reassured by my neighbours responses and reassuring words I tried to put the matter behind me but it continued to prey on my mind and every time I approached my drive, garage or van (a daily occurrence) I could feel a sense of misgiving inside and I found myself glancing across to see if ‘she’ was there. Eventually my mind eased as no further episodes occurred, until that is about ten months ago when both her and her husband this time approached me ranting together. I think it re-ignited because I parked in front of their house for twenty minutes one evening, I only did this as there was no other space within over a hundred yards of my garage and I needed to unload the van ready for a clearance job the next morning (actually it was their car in my usual spot that caused me to have to park there even though they had a clear drive...go figure). 

     This time though I started filming them on my mobile phone which immediately put them on the back foot. The language abated although she did try to grab the phone out of my hand a couple of times. The lines that I was hated came out, how dare I park in front of their house! and that I was a bloody disgrace was banded around a couple of times, I wouldn’t have minded too much but my driveway was a lot clearer as I had taken some time off earlier in the year but I guess you cannot placate folk like these. I stood up for myself a little better this time and explained that they were wrong in their assumptions about me, that if they would like to come with me and talk to the other neighbours I'd be happy to (they didn’t want to do this for some reason, again stating that the neighbours were all afraid of me), that if they had not baited me with parking on  several occasions where I usual parked, away from their house with its clear drive that I wouldn’t have had to park in front of their house this once, which is the last thing that I wanted to do. Oh and anyway I had done nothing illegal as it is a public road. No amount of reason was going to diffuse the situation so I just told them to go as I had reached my limit. Her final shot was the nutter line again but she was careful not to swear this time. The next day I reported them to the local Bobbie, but as usual he proved as much use as a chocolate fire guard, and a village councillor who sided with me having himself having similar experiences with this silky spoken lady, ahem, and politely offered to have a word if anymore situations arose.

     I am not exactly sure as to the reasons I have written about this, only that today there was a large removal lorry loading up outside the 'dynamic duos' house and that the feeling of pressure relief I felt was indescribable. Mental illness is a terrible affliction that cannot be seen by the casual observer, nor can it be quantified in a specific measurement. You never realise what affect your words or actions may have upon a person, especially one who is suffering inwardly. The Black Dog respects neither gender, age or colour and from personal experience is a bloody terrible thing to suffer, I would not wish it upon my own worse enemy. I am truly relieved that today I can now close the book upon this particular chapter and hopefully the use of my own workshop and drive will not fill me with that sinking feeling anymore when I approach it.