Olives and neighbours
Aug. 4th, 2003 09:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hnpccThe weekend was fine and sunny, so my parents came up to garden and do fixit jobs around the house. In my Mum's case, "garden" meant rip out and/or prune all the trees/shrubs that she's decided she hates and wants to get rid of.
Apparently this included the olive tree.
I had nothing against this tree. It was a tree. With olives. I don't particularly like olives, but they weren't doing my any harm.
In "pruning" this tree, which is in the front yard, my Mum met more of my neighbours in one afternoon than I've managed in nearly 10 years.
First off there was a woman from up the street. She stopped, looked at Mum and said:
"You girl."
"Yes", said Mum, "I'm a girl. We're girls."
"You no do work.. where boy?"
"He's up there", said Mum, meaning that my Dad was on the roof.
The neighbour tutted, sighed, said "You girl. Need boy do work" and moved on.
As Dean said, she's probably convinced that my Dad's dead and that my poor mother has no children who can do the work for her. Either that or she knows that Dean and I live there and is convinced that we're terrible children who firstly aren't producing grandchildren and secondly are allowing our poor aged mother to garden.
The next neighbour was from across the street. I know her by sight[1], and I've nodded to her a couple of times but we've never really spoken. When I came back from taking the timeshare terrier for a walk she was in full conversation with both my parents.
It turns out that she's the mother of 10 children, and grandmother to 15. That would explain why I thought there were three families living there - I think at any one time she's looking after at least 5 grandchildren plus the youngest ones of her own. She's very cheerful and quite a gossip. I think I found out more about what's actually happening in the street - the guy two doors up has moved out, the people who bought next door are also Lebanese, the people across the road are having a baby, her son owns the new antiques shop on Holmes St - in 10 mins than in the last year. The funniest bit for me was her referring to my next door neighbours (who I have spoken to quite regularly) as "the husband, he from my country (Lebanon) but his wife, she Australian".
That's odd, I thought, I've never noticed her as being skippy[2]. Then I realised that by "Australian" she didn't mean "skippy", she meant "not Lebanese". I think the wife's actually of Italian background - she certainly has a slight accent.
The next guy along was an elderly Italian bloke from around the corner, who spent 20 minutes telling my Mum how best to kill the olive tree ("Stupid trees. Useless!" - very unusual attitude for an Italian, he musn't like olives either) and the one after that was an elderly Italian lady from the other side who was horrified at my Mum's pruning job ("You will kill it!")
All in all, over a two afternoon period, I think my Mum managed to chat to around 15 people. And kill one lemon tree, several rose bushes (she doesn't like them either) and possibly the olive tree.
[1]Mentally Dean and I have them categorised by their car number plates (SAI, IMRAN, DEO) and by the "green car formerly known as 'crackwhore'". We figure the 17 year old put the decal on, and when one of the older children told the parents what it meant, it came off again.
[2]Melbourne slang for "Anglo-Australian". I generally use it as shorthand to describe Dean and myself, unless I'm using "Country Victorian". Or "Northern suburbs". Depends who it's to. It's not actually a word I grew up with either, it's a Melbourne word. I don't use its opposite, as I'm not really that comfortable with it.
Apparently this included the olive tree.
I had nothing against this tree. It was a tree. With olives. I don't particularly like olives, but they weren't doing my any harm.
In "pruning" this tree, which is in the front yard, my Mum met more of my neighbours in one afternoon than I've managed in nearly 10 years.
First off there was a woman from up the street. She stopped, looked at Mum and said:
"You girl."
"Yes", said Mum, "I'm a girl. We're girls."
"You no do work.. where boy?"
"He's up there", said Mum, meaning that my Dad was on the roof.
The neighbour tutted, sighed, said "You girl. Need boy do work" and moved on.
As Dean said, she's probably convinced that my Dad's dead and that my poor mother has no children who can do the work for her. Either that or she knows that Dean and I live there and is convinced that we're terrible children who firstly aren't producing grandchildren and secondly are allowing our poor aged mother to garden.
The next neighbour was from across the street. I know her by sight[1], and I've nodded to her a couple of times but we've never really spoken. When I came back from taking the timeshare terrier for a walk she was in full conversation with both my parents.
It turns out that she's the mother of 10 children, and grandmother to 15. That would explain why I thought there were three families living there - I think at any one time she's looking after at least 5 grandchildren plus the youngest ones of her own. She's very cheerful and quite a gossip. I think I found out more about what's actually happening in the street - the guy two doors up has moved out, the people who bought next door are also Lebanese, the people across the road are having a baby, her son owns the new antiques shop on Holmes St - in 10 mins than in the last year. The funniest bit for me was her referring to my next door neighbours (who I have spoken to quite regularly) as "the husband, he from my country (Lebanon) but his wife, she Australian".
That's odd, I thought, I've never noticed her as being skippy[2]. Then I realised that by "Australian" she didn't mean "skippy", she meant "not Lebanese". I think the wife's actually of Italian background - she certainly has a slight accent.
The next guy along was an elderly Italian bloke from around the corner, who spent 20 minutes telling my Mum how best to kill the olive tree ("Stupid trees. Useless!" - very unusual attitude for an Italian, he musn't like olives either) and the one after that was an elderly Italian lady from the other side who was horrified at my Mum's pruning job ("You will kill it!")
All in all, over a two afternoon period, I think my Mum managed to chat to around 15 people. And kill one lemon tree, several rose bushes (she doesn't like them either) and possibly the olive tree.
[1]Mentally Dean and I have them categorised by their car number plates (SAI, IMRAN, DEO) and by the "green car formerly known as 'crackwhore'". We figure the 17 year old put the decal on, and when one of the older children told the parents what it meant, it came off again.
[2]Melbourne slang for "Anglo-Australian". I generally use it as shorthand to describe Dean and myself, unless I'm using "Country Victorian". Or "Northern suburbs". Depends who it's to. It's not actually a word I grew up with either, it's a Melbourne word. I don't use its opposite, as I'm not really that comfortable with it.
