Hoors? Yeah... Hoors. Prostitutes, Tarts, Hookers, Ladies of Negotiable Affection, call them what you will. For 8 years or so I lived in granite tenement. My Neighbours Were Hoors. Sadly for us all (!?) the brothel was closed down and I moved out of the area. I never did get around to writing about the court case though...

Thursday, January 01, 2004

New Years Drama

Not only have I got prostitutes for neighbours... I have also got an assortment of other entertaining neighbours. Visits from one of the 3 emergency services appear to be commonplace in our tennement. Today I returned from New Year festivities in the country to discover an ambulance and a police car in the street outside. What Now?
I've made a couple of trips to the car to get those vital few items I accidentally left in my car, I've asked the various people hanging round the tennement door if "everything is ok?" and I've peered into the ground floor flat as much as I can without looking like I'm TOTALLY nosy... but I still don't know why someone is currently screaming out loud in agony.
I'd make a rubbish private detective. The little old lady accross the road is practically hanging out her bedroom window trying to get gossip.

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