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.