My neighbours are Italian. One's a musician, one's a hairdresser.
The day before last when I took my son to the salon where he works, he told me that if I was free on Saturday, he'd blow dry my hair!
He knows I've been shitting my pants about the reunion because, well, I've told pretty much everyone I'm shitting my pants.
Anyway, how nice is that???!
"You will look niiiice," he says. "I make you look niiiiic."
They're beautiful my neighbours but telling them how long it's been since I went to Shit School, flip, I don't think they were born!
No matter, age does not matter, age does not wither, nor stale our infinite variety. Isn't that right Shakespeare?!
Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours.. That's on Channel 5 these days isn't it?
Focus on the good
Focus on the beauty.
Single mum friend this morning told me I was more than just a single mother on benefits, and should not define myself that way.
"You are a freelance journalist. You may not have written for a while but that's what you are."
With a little understanding
That's when good neighbours become...
OK, Ok, you've got it...