Mein Commandant

The new place in Tel Aviv is growing on me. I like it.

The neighbourhood is luverly, and even the neighbours are luverly (remember Sharon from Kchi Oti Sharon?). The only cloud in our lives is the commandant living on the top floor (the building has 3 floors, we're on the second). She obviously has no life whatsoever because she has taken it upon herself to bug the shit out of us.

On our first days there we put a couple of plant pots outside our front door - this was met with a swift tut-tutting and a request to leave just one pot outside. OK, fair enough. I mean, two plant pots is really pushing it...and would lead to possibly double the number of water drops on the ceramic floor, which, again, was brought to our attention. We really should aim better...

Of course, being busy people with lives, we failed to water the plants in the one remaining pot and death was soon upon them. This was brought to our attention by 'er upstairs, who was quite distraught at the scene of decay outside our front door - "Please move the pot inside your home, it looks disgusting...". So, we bought some flowers, planted them...and have let them die again...

All these petty little incidents have been brought to mrs. anglosaxy's attention, as she was more at home than moi. I'm now waiting my turn to meet 'er upstairs, because I can be quite an arse sometimes and somebody needs to bring it to her attention that she really should get out more...