MY OFFICE COLLEAGUE and I would often joke about not being able to live next to each other in any district.
Ms G is one cubicle down from me but, because we are co-news editors, we spend an inordinate length of time in contact with each other. That type of situation is bound to lead to some sparks every now and then, but we take it in our stride.
“Wunnah like two old women . . . wunnah gine spend the whole day quarrelling,” our boss remarked one time.
We imagined that to be neighbours outside the office would make for the type of standpipe excitement that has now become legend.
Situations in which women waited in the shadows with some blunt instrument wrapped in cloth or newspaper and having satisfactorily inflicted blows galore on the enemy retreated to their homes.
They reckoned that no witness could say that a weapon was used if there was a report made to ’strict A. Similarly, should the casualty of the attack threaten to “action” the culprit at Coleridge Street, the latter was hoping the evidence would not stand up in court. After all, how serious an injury could result from a piece of paper or cloth?
Or, as pointed out by Ms G, one woman would stand from her premises and launch a pail of something into the road at the precise time the woman, the sworn enemy, was passing. The aim was done with such precision that the liquid landed next to the passer-by but there was enough of a splatter to catch a piece of clothing or exposed skin.
Such was the case back then when neighbours “catch hold” at the lone district standpipe and fought, buckets flying, water spilling and loads of threats that “it cahn dun so”. That meant that for weeks each time the two passed near each other, there were “remarks drop”.
Such a situation I would consider untenable.
Therefore a good neighbour is a blessed thing.
I spent my childhood and my adult life with some very pleasant neighbours dotting all around my home.
An overbearing and wicked neighbour can make for one miserable life, if the resident has no other place to lay his/her head.
After a hectic day at work “outing fires”, then to come home to a difficult neighbour, is a most undesirable situation. Who wants to live next door to a tyrant, someone who knows no peace, wants no peace and will do anything to create havoc?
I am sure some of you know the type. They play music loud, burn things late into the evening, quarrel at the drop of a hat and generally make mischief whenever possible. That environment, along with the work environment, can cause no end to stress.
I had some rather pleasant neighbours who looked out for the welfare of the children, the security of the house and at times provided some form of food from their kitchens, no charge involved.
Recently I bid farewell to my next door neighbour Joyce Seon, a former headmistress of the Grazettes Primary School. A darling of a woman, she made sure she was the consummate neighbour. Pleasant and never a harsh word, Ms Seon reached out to those around her.
She was similar to another neighbour, Ms Wilma Brathwaite, who passed away in 2013. Both had that spirit of being at peace with their neighbours and regardless of the situation, never came out to take sides unless it was the side of peace.
Not everyone gets to enjoy such calming neighbourhoods, but fortunately I did.
• Antoinette Connell is a News Editor. Email [email protected]
