Ive lived in my own house here in Oxfordshire for more than twenty years, and my neighbour, Peter, not much less. He started his building work around the time I was finishing up the interiors of mine.
We know each other fairly well, having kept in touch and visited each others homes occasionally, though we’ve never been what youd call close friends.
That particular year, during winter, I stayed with my daughter Emily for a while. My health made managing at home difficult, so being with her was a comfort. As spring arrived and the weather warmed, I planned my return.
I came back at the end of April, when all the snow had melted away. The house was just as Id left it, although I still felt anxious for some reason. So, I threw myself into tending the front garden and the vegetable patch, putting everything back in order.
I keep two small greenhouses at the side of the house. In one, I’ve planted cucumbers and peppers; in the other, tomatoes.
The vegetable beds this year held strawberries, carrots, onions, and dill. Along the fence bordering Peters garden, there are bushes of blackcurrants and redcurrants. Somehow, all this hard work didnt go unnoticed. Yet again, something behind me was amiss. Emily drove me into London, and later that summer, she arranged for me to spend a month at a health retreat.
By September, I felt well enough to return home. When I walked out to my plot, I found the wooden fence separating my garden from Peters broken in such a way that one could easily walk from his side straight into my vegetable patch.
It was clear Peter had been using my greenhouses and beds while I was away. He never even rang to ask for my permission, although hes always had my number.
Naturally, I wasnt happy about this. I asked him why the fence had been damaged. He admitted freely that it was more convenient to walk through my side rather than take the longer path, and perhaps even closer to his own greenhouse that way. I voiced my displeasure, which he received with unsettling calm. I told Peter firmly that I didnt want anyone entering my garden without my say-so.
On top of that, I requested he fix the damaged section of the fence himself, restoring it properly. I also suggested, pointedly, that it would be fair for him to share the harvest with me. Not that I needed the extra vegetablesmy hope was simply to impress upon Peter a small lesson, one I trust he wont forget easily.
