I have been so lucky all my life to have had the best neighbours anybody could wish for.
I’ve mentioned my current neighbours before. They are my gardening angels who tend to my verge while I’m not looking and ensure my property doesn’t bring down the tone of our suburb.
They are golden.
I’ve also had neighbours who have cared for my cat, given my daughter a bike, and made us all sorts of crafty and culinary treats.
Like I said, I’ve been lucky.
This week I was very sad to say goodbye to a former neighbour who turned into a friend.
Kingsley was a hard nut to crack.
With a yard full of beautiful roses, and a garage filled with vintage vehicles, I was keen to make his acquaintance from the minute we moved in.
He wasn’t quite as keen to meet me.
It took me more than six months of waving and “hellos” and “have you seen my cats” before I managed to engage him in a conversation.
The ice-breaker? His roses.
He had the best in the street, and I’d made a promise to my landlord to keep the roses in my backyard looking healthy and gorgeous.
The advice Kingsley, a groundsman, gave me will never be forgotten.
You prune from the middle to form a ‘bowl’.
You leave shoots growing outwards.
His advice worked, and for the time I spent as his neighbour, I too had lovely roses.
I also had a friend to chat with over the fence after work.
I would pat his dog, Sally, and Kingsley would tell me bits and pieces about his life.
He was a very private man, but once he let you in, you were treated to his wisdom, and his wry sense of humour.
I started to worry when Sally wouldn’t stop barking one day.
Taken ill, Kingsley was rushed to hospital, where he spent most of his final days.
I tried to keep his roses looking nice. But he was the expert.
He had made a living out of tending to other people’s gardens.
Sadly, the end came too soon for him.
For me, he will live on in my memory as ‘the groundsman’.
I’ll see him in every rose, and in every freshly mowed lawn. RIP. Kate.
