Killing the Neighbours with Kindness
Tags: Christmas, Kindness, Neighbors, Culture

Killing the Neighbours with Kindness

Why would a group of apparently sane people set up camp chairs in the middle of the street on Christmas Eve? With a temperature of 3° and a windchill factor taking it below zero, what possible reason could there be for sitting clutching cups of hot glue vine whilst swathed in blankets for nearly 2 hours.

The answer lies in my elder daughter’s propensity for big schemes, kindhearted gestures and lack of attention to the detail.

On finding out that some people, in the little cul de sac in which she lives, would be alone at Xmas as our latest set of lockdown restrictions come into force, she decided to buy a 20’x16’ blow up screen, and associated technology, to put on an outdoor movie for the neighbours.

The idea was the restrictions wouldn’t be breached because people could stay within the boundaries of their own homes while she delivered plastic cups of hot glue vine from a gloved hand.

About half the people on the street put in an appearance. Some of the elderly neighbours enjoyed a brief chat before sensibly disappearing inside to the warmth of their central heating but it wasn’t long before only a small hard-core huddled on the pavement grimly “enjoying” the entertainment.

As all feeling gradually slipped out of toes and fingers, teeth chattered and glue vine chilled into Gazpacho, the Syrian family opposite, who had graciously declined. the invitation, appeared with a tray of sweets for the children. They are part of the Syrian diaspora. Who knows what horrors lie in their recent history and what they make of the strange blue skinned denizens of their new world.

There are a really odd couple who live in the house on the corner. They never speak to anybody and usher their children inside if anybody appears in a neighbouring garden. Theories abound as to what’s going on there.

Although they had been invited, there was no expectation they would attend. Halfway through the movie, the man of the house returned from work on a bicycle. He visibly checked as he turned into the Close but set his jaw and ran the gauntlet riding his bike between the audience and the screen. Resolutely ignoring the smiles, waves and calls of happy Xmas he grimly steered his bike into his drive and disappearing into the house like a rabbit down a hole.

Eventually there were only two families left, holding out to the end, shivering and laughing through chattering teeth. The other the family are good friends of my daughters and have children of a similar age. The lady of the house survived breast cancer three years ago only to have it return in November. In early December she had a double mastectomy but it seems it hasn’t caught it. A new year of radiotherapy and chemotherapy looms. To cap it all, that morning, on Christmas Eve, she had a PET scan and had to keep a distance from everybody for most of that day because she was slightly radioactive.

As the evening passed, through the shivering, the banter and the glue vine, it was clear this brief interlude of some sort of communal normality had been a very welcome distraction for her from the grimness of her prospects.

Finally the film ended. I have never been so glad to see the end credits. With remarkable alacrity we dropped the screen, put away the chairs and dived for the warmth of the house.

Once inside, tucking into Papa John’s takeaway pizza, and bathing in an overwhelming sense of gratitude for our immense good fortune, we watched the children excitedly re-enacting the movie.

And the name of this gem of filmography, for which a neighbourhood went in search of pneumonia?

Frozen 2

Happy Christmas