Deadly hot. Towering clouds. One of the painters turned up but he had forgotten the pole to attach the roller to so he left and he couldn't come back in the afternoon because he is getting divorced.
Henry and his invisible wife are back next door. They arrived in the dark the other night. What would I know, I was asleep.
The Russian down the road creeps up to their gate several times a day and peers over but they never come out if someone is looking for them. When they are there during the day they make endless trips to their garage which joins onto my garden wall with small, scurrying footsteps on the gravel.
The French contingent opposite have arrived and they have very loud, laughter filled lunch parties on their porches.
"The Voice" who lives at the back of the house is building something in his garden which involves a lot of shouting. But he never shuts up anyway which is why I call him the voice. Actually, I call him "The voz"and now his kid is talking we have a potential "Son of Voz".