There is a new man living in the house next to me. He has been living there a week and he has yet to introduce himself to me––equally, I have yet to introduce myself to him. I know very little about the man who has moved in next door, except that I suspect he is a naturist.
The first I knew about the newcomer was a sudden scene of activity in the neighbouring back garden, which I observed from behind the concealment of the curtains at my upstairs study window. Pots of plants began to appear; a wooden table and bench; a small green gazebo. It all looked rather nice.
Then, one day, I spotted the man himself. He was seated on a deckchair in the garden, behind the green gazebo, a laptop on his lap, wearing… well, nothing. Or, if not nothing, then only something small enough that it could be concealed beneath a laptop.
The following day; the same scene: a small laptop from which sprouted long naked arms, legs and torso. Were there a pair of speedos concealed beneath that glistening silver Pentium Processor? I did not stay watching long enough to confirm the matter one way or the other.
Do I have a problem with my next-door naturist? I’m undecided. In his favour, he is a very quiet naturist. Would it help if we were introduced to one another? I do not know.
However, if September promises to be an Indian summer, I find myself looking forward to an October cold snap.
© Simon Turner-Tree
Simon Turner-Tree believes that good fences make good neighbours.