Neighbour

An absolutely amazing thing happened this morning. I mean, it was really surprising and we still don’t know what to make of it. We’d only just arrived, hardly been in the house five minutes when one of our neighbours came knocking on the door. A French neighbour, a wonderful looking old chap, must be well into his seventies. I shook hands, beckoned him in, but he stayed on the doorstep. I had to call Monica because she does at least speak some French. Anyway, the old chap stood there, not a word. Monica said, “Oui?” in a very sort of interrogative way, encouraging the old chap to say something. But he still didn’t. Monica said, “Est-ce que je aider vous?” – she really is jolly good at French and I’m going to have to find some lessons somewhere. But still the old chap didn’t say a word. He smiled a bit, terrible teeth, then pointed to the house next door. I suppose it’s his. But the next thing he did was really strange. He pointed at Monica then pointed back at his house, or what I took to be his house. Well, Monica and I looked at each other, shrugged, then smiled back at him. And then, quite suddenly, he made one of those gestures, putting his hand on the inside of his elbow and bringing up his forearm very sharply. Then he turned and walked away. We got the impression that perhaps he wasn’t too pleased to see us. It’s a bit of a poser if one of our neighbours has already taken against us. I dare say we’ll find out he’s a bit odd.