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I met my next door neighbour the other day. We’ve been living here over a month now and I hadn’t introduced myself to anyone, but he was outside watering his garden when I got out of my car so I went over and introduced myself.

“I am Bictor.” he said. “And my wife is Berrrrta.” He has a lovely accent, not sure where it’s from. “If ju need anything, anytime, ju come and knock at our door. And the same in reverse, we will come and knock jore door.”

“Of course!”

“That’s how we do.”

“Very neighbourly.”

“That’s right.”

“You have a beautiful garden, by the way. I admire it every day. We’re trying to do something with ours, but it’s horrible…”

He grinned. “Well, it’s okay, the weeds are coming up.”

Then the loveliest thing happened yesterday. I was just about to leave the house when the doorbell rang. There was Victor, holding a big bunch of fragrant white lilies.

“Hello, I thought ju might like this. Is the time for them now, so I thought…”

“Wow! They’re beautiful! I might take some to my mum in hospital.”

He shrugged and smiled. “Dey are jurs now, ju can do whatever ju like.”

Mum told me to keep them here, so I’ve got them in a large vase on the dining room table which you can see as you walk down the hallway. Every time I look at them, I think about how wonderful it is to have good neighbours. I’ve lived so long in places where the neighbours were unfriendly, where you’d smile at people and they’d look right through you, and if you needed help you’d have to think twice before knocking on anyone else’s door. So it’s good to know someone might be looking out for us. And it reminds me how important it is to be a good neighbour, even if it just means saying hello and smiling when you see people on the street.

Bringing flowers is just above and beyond and very much appreciated.