Who needs neighbours?

The solitary painter working in the house next door assures me he will be finished in the next week or so. He's been the only person working next door that hasn't made me want to commit murder. He's an affable sort of chap, full of pleasantries and cheery hello's or to be exact what about ye's. We converse most mornings as I smoke my breakfast on the doorstep and he has his mid morning cup of milky tea. It's the normal run of the mill small talk, the joy of the Irish summer, sport, the economy, and so on. There was an odd moment though last week when we drifted onto the worsening situation in Zimbabwe. As neither of us really knew what we were talking about we both just ended up standing there shaking our heads muttering about what a scoundrel Mugabe is.

"Yup he's a bud un" says he and then takes a big gulp of tea from his, "Worlds best grandad" mug (cracked).

I sucked on my smoke and replied, "Yup, a bad un for sure."

Then there was silence followed by, "Probably rain again soon."

He sucked on his smoke and replied, "Yup, it'll rain all right."

I'll miss our chats.

In fact I'll be devastated when he goes. Not just because of our dazzling and illuminating repartee, I'm not that starved of conversation but because it will soon mean that the house will be available for rent. This fills me full of terror.

"crazy" students I hate students
fuck off and get a job.

That property has been empty for a very long time. The last tenants left, I assume though I never actually saw them leave, about four years ago. They were odd. You only ever caught partial glimpses of them, a leg as they scuttled into the house, a forehead as they peered out from behind the curtains. You knew they were there but you never got to see them in their entirety, much like the monster from Cloverfield. But without the head ripping and terrorising of Manhattan. That is until the night that the young woman who lived next door found her way into my house. That night she was every bit like the monster from Cloverfield.

I shared the house with my cousin back then. An odd boy for sure but quiet with it, so in many ways he was the perfect person to share with. He didn't bother much with the ladies or rather they didn't bother much with him. So when one literally fell on to his lap in the middle of the night who was he to look a gift horse monster in the mouth?! So the cousin and Ms Cloverfield got it on, as the kids say. This led to much awkwardness and more scuttling over the next few weeks and months as they tried to avoid each other and Mr Cloverfield obviously.

But since then the house has been gloriously empty. But not for much longer. Soon it will be filled, most likely with students. Oh mother of fuck I hope it's not students. But the large extension that now blocks the sunlight from my kitchen says it probably will be. I'd love it just to stay empty but unless I rent it as well as this place that ain't gonna happen.

Like I say I really don't want students living next door to me, especially first year students with their new found freedom and their college grants and loans burning holes in their corduroy pockets. Do students till wear corduroy? I don't know either, or care. Yes first year students from the country would be the worst possible result. No "off" button you see. Everything is conducted at full volume at all times. Why speak when you can shout? Why close the door when you can slam it? Why have a couple of friends round for some drinks when you can invite the whole of your university year group round instead? Why listen to decent music when you can shout/sing along to the Gambler by Kenny Rogers? Oh fuck, I'm frightened.

More Children of the Corn than Dawsons Creek, if you know what I mean

If I could decide you lived next door I would choose, deaf old people. But it's gonna be students. I'd prefer religious students, Buddhist, Christian or Muslim any really, as opposed to students who are religiously annoying. You see there would be no wild parties, lots of early nights, no drinking, no wild sex or even un-wild sex with which to torment me at 3 in the morning, no knocking at the door at 4am by people looking for "Seanies" house, no stealing my bin, no empty beer cans in my backyard, no bodies in my backyard. Oh yes, religious students are the way to go. And as a bonus the sound of their late night praying and chanting etc would be the perfect way to get to sleep. Sure there would be the occasional attempt to convert me but I'd rather that than the hedonistic hell that could be living there.

You can call me a grumpy old bastard if you want, I don't care.

Manuel needs his sleep.