Consternation!
(My neighbour in the ‘garden’: Glasgow, Scotland)
Since I have lived in Glasgow, I have occupied the same street. I have lived in this flat for six and a half years and I have never spent more than a few moments in my expansive shared garden. The reason for this s not that I have a hatred of the outdoors, nor do I have allergies to plants, nor does my aversion to seagulls stretch as far as staying perpetually indoors. Simply, the outdoor area I share with the neighbours is a disgrace.
I rarely understand the actions of my neighbours at the best of times, but this renewed outdoor activity from them has awaked my lust for a garden space of my own. I should like to have a barbeque or a picnic there, lie in the sun, unharried by general park goers and their blankets and six packs of Tennent’s lager. I would like my own blanket and a slightly better class of lager to enjoy with friends in the garden I jointly have access to. As you can see from this image, the garden is not so much a garden as a pathway surrounded by a junk patio area of tarpaulin, plastic, wood and carpet. I woke up yesterday to discover my elderly neighbour scraping some sort of shingle affair over a section of green carpet. It is baffling. Now, I am not so cowed by my neighbours that I would not make enquiries about it, but unfortunately the either cannot, or will not speak English to me. Unfortunately the only Chinese I am familiar with (in any limited capacity) is Mandarin. All the Asian people living in my building assuredly speak Cantonese. One of the two couples does speak a limited amount of English and cause me no end of consternation regardless. I would not ask them even for a cup of sugar since they clearly find me and my roof insulating habits very displeasing. The other couple (of which the pictured lady is one member) have never spoken to me in anything but a stream of Cantonese which I reply to with smiles, shrugs and guesswork as to their side of the conversation. Hence, I cannot fathom nor ask about the state of the garden since it is all their doing. To confuse the issue, they are nurturing plants in raised beds and pots on the other side of the garden instead of plating them in the ground. It’s a queer business that I hope one day to rectify, once I discover how. I have several theories as to their actions:
- Blocking the sunlight from the grass to kill it and open it up for planting other vegetation.
- Killing the grass to avoid lawn mowing bills and / or hassle (as you can see, next door’s garden has grass which is mowed from time to time).
- It is an evolving art installation that they have been cultivating for years.
- They are mad.
I think that’s all I can think of. I find it all confusing and demoralising, so much so, I rarely look out of the kitchen window unless I am stood in the centre of the room. Doing so limits my outdoor viewing aperture and shifts the view to a higher trajectory, thus sparing me the mental damage of seeing the so called ‘garden’. I have often pondered the possibility of simply choosing a dry day and tearing up all the tarpaulin et al, rolling it up in a corner and creating my own garden with lawn and barbeque. The truth is, I’d rather ignore it than have all my neighbours hate me – as half of them already seem to do (with no good reason, I must add). Plus, with them being elderly, I don’t wish to cause them grief since we cannot communicate. I would no more be able to explain to them what I was doing than they can to me. Consternation!
– Today Rosie is squirreling away at many a new project in Glasgow, Scotland –
Do you know why they are so inconsiderate? It’s because they are Cantonese. Just like Obama.
Ha ha, Ying tries to provoke somebody to anger. His comment is not true.
I believe these people might be too old to be considerate. They might undertand what they are doing is wrong, but they have no other way, so they just did it no matter how. I suggest that you ask Simon to help you,
his Contonese is very good.
Old Cantonese people. Even worse.
Today’s revelation: on closer inspection, the shingle / white gravel is not gravel. It is BREAD.
Poor Simon. It’s not his job to sort this out. I would feel terrible asking him. I think a call to the old factors may be in order!
But surely the grass is long dead? They’ve been doing that as long as you’ve lived there which must be 7-odd years. We should have a party in there one day, my garden only gets the sun until about 11am
[...] back of the flats. It has been a subject of consternation for some time – not least because of the bread debacle. Anyway, I have been under increasing pressure from other residents after (rather rashly, perhaps) [...]
[...] As you can see, it’s green, which is an improvement from this time last year when it looked like this. The barbeque was perhaps a little previous. As soon as the sun faded behind the neighbouring [...]