My earlier post mapped out the geographical aspects of the village, but it is of course the people that give meaning and texture to the terrain. I would like to introduce some of the people we have met since moving here, but I want to do this without appearing to be too disrespectful. They were all here before us, after all, and who knows what they are saying about the scruffy old English guy who lives at the edge of the village? I have taken the precaution of changing their names to save any embarrassments. Or reprisals – in one instance, at least.
The Vet
One of the first people we met was the village vet. Our first meeting was outside the main village shop, where he was enjoying a beer with his friends at the table thoughtfully placed there for that purpose – a popular drinking spot for the older guys, with their beers and rakia (local spirit) chasers. Sadly, I have not yet been accepted into the club. We saw him for a second time at the local pub in the early days before it closed down. He came straight from his clinic at lunchtime, in his white coat stained with blood. He was a friendly guy, but probably more Mr Chinnery (from The League of Gentlemen) than James Herriot (from All Creatures Great and Small)!
Immediate Neighbours
We have Sam to one side, who is an ex-fireman turned smallholder. He has a small vineyard, some chickens, a rather loud dog, and a donkey. Close to Christmas, he sometimes has a pig. His partner Ava complained when he bought the donkey because she wanted some things for the house instead. It reminded me of a patient I worked with many years ago, speaking of her partner…
“He bought me a kebab. A bloody kebab! And all I wanted was a stable life”.
Sam is friendly but a bit dour. I don’t think he is the kind of person who would go out of his way to help someone.
In front of us across the street are Daphne and Dave, who mostly stay at their home in the city. They are friendly, but we do not have any shared interests. Daphne is really into designer labels and expensive decorative nails, while Dave makes do with badly fitting trousers and shirts with missing buttons.
To the left is my brother-in-law in his container home that provides a welcome retreat from the city.
And what to say about our neighbours behind? They consist of an elderly father, a son with a violent criminal record and a drinking problem, and his partner who was previously the partner of a guy who still lives in the same street. They have poor musical taste and sometimes play their favourite radio station at high volume, disturbing the peace of this lovely rural setting. When we had builders constructing our new kitchen, they ended up in a radio battle – each in turn increasing the volume! That is who we are dealing with.
The worst problem we face is that they have illegally built a kind of lean-to against our wall to house chickens and their feed. This is a big attraction for rats, that then use this to access our loft and build nests in our roof. It is a constant and losing battle, but one that we will continue to pursue. We confronted them once about another issue (their dog stole a shoe from our property), and the woman was violently threatening. They are notorious in the village and we have been advised to just keep away from them. It is also perhaps worth noting that a second son, recently passed away, had served time for murder – he killed his neighbour with an iron bar. As Sartre so appropriately noted…
“There’s no need for red-hot pokers. Hell is – other people”.
Which is perhaps why some people are drawn to goats…
The Goatherds
We are blessed with two local goatherds. The first is Jumpy Goat Man, a very sprightly man in his late 70s who is proud of his physical fitness and agility – which he demonstrated by jumping when we first met him. To clarify – we didn’t make him jump by shocking him in any way, he was doing it for illustrative purposes.
The second is Grumpy Goat Man, a much younger chap whose temper is sometimes put to the test by the goats in his care. He has been heard shouting at them, something along the lines of having an intimate relationship with their mothers if they don’t get a move on. He is actually quite friendly, For a while, there was a bit of a territorial dispute with a shepherd from the other side of the village who had a pack of quite vicious dogs to help him. They would stand in front of my car and bark fiercely, refusing to get out of the way. Grumpy Goat man said that one of the dogs had killed one of his chickens and he was going to hit the guy with his goat-herding stick if he didn’t pay up. Ah, the peace and tranquillity of village life. I did say it was more like a box of frogs kind of village than a chocolate box one.
I hope this has helped to make our village more real. Anyone for a soft-centred chocolate?
Psychologist on the Move 