How well do you know your neighbours? I suspect your answer to that one will depend on where you live. Chances are, if your home is a remote Scottish island on which your nearest neighbour is a good 30-minute hike, you probably know them very well, but if you live on top of each other in a frantic city you barely know them at all. Right? That’s the modern day irony. Familiary has less to do with proximity and more to do with time and need.
I’ve lived in the same house in South East London for 12 years, and I’m not sure I could spot my neighbours if they were next to me in the bus queue, never mind tell you their names. I do swap a Christmas card with the elderly lady next door, though I have to admit that’s because she started it. I’m sure she remembers a time when neighbours were neighbours in more than just name.
Once upon a time, when like them I commuted in a panic to the West End every day, leaving home at 7.30am and getting home close to 8pm, I didn’t much mind not knowing about the lives passing by either side of me. But, since slowing down, taking control, starting my own business, having my first child and living life at the right speed (to quote Carl Honore), I do care. A lot.
Which is why I found myself crossing my road last weekend in dressing gown and shoes, baring a cornflaked grin at the friendly-looking girl growing tomatoes, herbs and all varieties of cottage garden flowers on the cold stone steps of her gardenless flat, with a baby bump that looked just about ready for an early morning dash to the labour ward.
“Hi,” I said. “I’ve been watching you from over the road for ages, and I just wanted to let you know I think you’re doing a great job with the gardening. It’s making our view much nicer!”
I waited for the blank stare. It didn’t come. Instead we talked babies, swapped numbers and had tea together. Slow neighbouring, surely the way forward.
I remember when I was a child if we wanted to speak to grandma we would phone Mrs Montgomery, who lived next door to them. She’d run to get grandma for me. They shared a phone, because they couldn’t afford one each. I know, poverty isn’t to be remembered fondly, but neighbourliness like that certainly is.
What’s the link with Slow Food, you’re thinking. Well, slow down, I’m getting to that.
This Sunday, July 18th, if you don’t know already, is The Big Lunch. The idea of The Big Lunch is that across the nation neighbours will gather together for lunch. Simples.
Run by the Eden Project, there’s a website with tonnes of info about which lunches are going on near you, plus how to make your lunch a memorable one. There’s a Big Lunch box from Riverford to win, tips from foodies including Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall and Masterchef 2010 winner Dhruv Baker and a new recipe from Team Green Britain ambassador and eco-restaurateur Jamie Grainger-Smith.
We’ve no doubt mentioned it before on jorgandolif.com, us being champions of Slow Living, but even if it’s the first you’ve heard of it there’s still time to join in. Visit Thebiglunch.com and follow updates on Twitter here.
Go on, give it a whirl. Food is an ideal way to get to know the neighbours. Especially if you live next door to Jamie Oliver.
