Wine Lady?

It’s nice having neighbours. It’s nice to know that if anyone tries to break into your house or murder you there will be people around to call the police or find your body. However, most people will have at least one set or family of neighbours who endlessly amaze with their level of inconsideration.

I have one such family of neighbours.

Last winter we were woken every morning by such trilling beauties as jackhammers and pneumatic drills right outside our window. For four seemingly endless months the house next door was effectively shelled out and rebuilt. In the end we were rewarded with an extension window which faced directly into our living room window. Hello new neighbours.

So, that’s all in the past and forgotten, obviously. However, this family has a little boy. He’s about five years old and likes to play in front of his house, which is totally fine. He also likes to play in our garden, which is not totally fine. Last week he was playing hurling right next to my car with indiscriminate force. I watched this from inside and the fourth time the ball narrowly missed my dad’s car I decided to go out and tell them very sweetly to feck off.

Out I went and in my most teachery voice I said:

“Boys, make sure you stay off the grass here. Go and play in your own garden.”


Me: “Nnnoo. This is my garden. That is your garden.”


Me: “Play on the green or play in your garden. Don’t play here.”

Then something quite unexpected happened.

His little friend was mortified and started trying to explain. It just didn’t make any sense.

So I was just watching them pick up their toys and move off the lawn when the child turned around and said

I mean, I could understand if he’d actually seen me carrying a bottle of wine or drinking wine. But I don’t drink.

My conclusion is that this kid is mad.

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