A : July 12 2002

The new neighbours arrived on Wednesday. Much curtain twitching in
the Close as boxes, beds, chairs and two small white dogs were
deposited through the front door. A thirtysomething woman introduced
herself to a couple of doorstep loiterers, and the fun was over. Not.
Her partner arrived a couple of hours later, cropped and suited,
followed by several increasingly outrageous friends. It was Mardi Gras
with the sound turned down.

This morning when I
returned from an early appointment, a witches coven had appeared
outside number 3. There was a great deal of teeth grittting. Arms were
being folded under bosoms, which were then raised like pallettes on
fork lift trucks. I was summoned and given the shocking news; there are
Lesbians in Chigwell.

I won't repeat the
ensuing conversation, except to say that adjectives like liberal,
welcoming, fair, enlightened, or even plain good old fashioned
neighbourly were not in evidence. At first I had to stop myself from
laughing, then from crying, and finally from physical violence.
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Note for diary. The 21st century tried to arrive in
our neighbourhood this week, but was beaten back. Temporarily.