My dad's Policeman friends

My dad knows everyone!
Lords! Ladies! Traffic Wardens!

And he knows Policemen. And Policemen know THINGS.

One day my dad parked outside my flat to walk into town. He met a friend, a policeman. This policeman remarked on what a long walk it'd be for my dad to walk all the way into town. "Not that far!" sez my dad. "I parked outside my daughter's flat"

"Oh, where's that? " sez Policeman"

"x Number, Z Street" Sez my dad

"Oh!" Sez policeman. "What does she do for a living?"

Fluffs to my dad who pointed out his daughter wasn't a Hoor and that she merely lives above a brothel ;)

Gardening Fun

Another time, my upstairs neighbour, J, and I were clearing out the back garden of the tenement.

All sorts we found!!! A wasps nest... Fishing equipment... Diving equipment (gas, flippers and all)... Ice skates. Perhaps an old resident went through a phase of looking for the right hobby... I don't know. (Excluding the wasps nest. I can't think of many hobbies that involve wasps nests).

We made an old toilet bowl into an attractive planter for poppies. We peered into the shed at the end that we reckoned The Godfather (ground floor right) was keeping horses heads in. We restrung the clothes line. We returned the supermarket trolley to Iceland (the shop not the country) and then we put our hands on our hips (in manner of I Love Lucy - we even had the spotted headscarves) and looked at The Big Tree.

I don't know what kind of tree this Big Tree is. Only that since I moved in, it has been cut right back almost every year and by September it's thriving again. Bastard thing. It's still there. Bullying everything but the dandelions.

So we got out the secateurs. We got out the saw... We cleared the window on the first floor first of all and then eventually the window of Ground Floor Left. And then the curtains on Ground Floor Left (the Hoors' flat) twitched. A face appeared. A face vanished. The back door to the tenement creaked slowly open. A Hoor appeared! Wearing what I can only describe as half of an outfit. i.e. A red jumper on top and items I can only describe as "saucy" on the bottom. Plus some scuffed stilettoes. Actually perhaps she was wearing her entire outfit for the day and had only put on the red jumper to cover up. I don't know.

"Wow! It's so LIGHT in there now! I can see SO MUCH!"

We Shuddered. We heard her buzzer go. "OOOOOH! ExCUSE me! Must be going. Thanks you two!" she grinned. We smiled and waved. "Lovely girl" we noted.

Then she reappeared at the window. Winked. And drew the curtains.

We shuddered.

Then we heard her chatting quietly to her punter.

"Shall I go in and get a radio?" I asked

A couple of licks and we're done!

PAINT. You filthy perverts... Paint.

The poor dears! Slander! I come home from the pub one night (as these blogs so often begin) and someone has sprayed something on the tennement door! "PROS" it says... And I don't think they're talking about the professional environmental consultants, dentists and lawyers living in the area.

"SLU"... another word begins... but happily I cannot read it! For the Hoors have a troglodyte! A troglodyte with an apologetic grin and a paintbrush. He smiles and shrugs nodding towards the cringing Hoor who is overseeing the graffitti removal. "Sorry 'bout this luv" she says, taking a draw on her cigarette with her bright red lips... Her red nails gripping her other elbow in a classic old-woman-with-hairnet-off-1960's-Coronation-Street pose.

I giggle drunkenly and totter off upstairs. (As so many of these blogs end...)

I Love My Neighbours!

I love my Hoor Neighbours!
They are so nice and pleasant and kind!

Only nice Hoors can be overheard giving advice to their punters on the best pubs to visit in London and which parks they should take their mothers to...

I didn't stay around to hear more, like...