8. Do a local Prayer Walk
9. Find out the names of our closest neighbours
Done both. We don’t own a house and to be honest, I don’t suppose we ever will. It’s not troubled me — we all end up in a box anyway, so what’s to worry about? We’ve lived in all sorts of places in our time. The middle of Reading was fun. Being able to get anything at all hours, the variety of life on the street and great neighbours made it vibrant and joyful, though occasionally hairy. Sandhurst was far more of a dormitory, but we made friends for life there. There was a parrot in one of the houses along Fir Tree Close that used to imitate Trimphones and the Time Signal, which was fun. Great Missenden is posher, and when we came we were concerned about getting to know the neighbours. Actually they don’t bite, we soon got to know their names, and we've made all sorts of friends.
The parish system, much maligned and compromised by our modern designer lifestyles, says that everyone belongs not by being birds of a feather, but simply by being there. That way everybody counts for something, however alternative.
To celebrate metroland neighbourliness I have designed a Tee shirt that will get your neighbours talking and enliven all your domestics. It’s based on a true story, as they say, from my friend and former chaplain, the Revd Anne Faulkner...
Anyway that’s his Tee shirt taken care of — anyone out there got a slogan for hers?