theguardian: by Patrick Barkham, Hugh Muir, Leo Benedictus, Paula Cocozza, Nosheen Iqbal, Stuart Heritage, Michele Hanson ans Laura Barton —
More than a third of people are unable to recognise their neighbours, and communities are a thing of the past, says a recent survey. So what happened when we sent Guardian writers out to meet the people in their streets?
I moved from a London flat to a terrace in Norwich two years ago and went from being on nodding terms with two neighbours to chatting over the fence with Peter and Beryl and Joanna and Ivo, as well as Eric, my old school teacher, Catherine and Sebastian, Pat the Aussie electrician, Dave the lovely plumber, the cashier from the supermarket and an elderly lady called Jackie.
I feel pretty smug about the fact that I am a chatty man with the perfect chat accessory: twins. But then I knock on the door of Pauline Platten, a retiree who lives opposite whom I had never talked to before, despite seeing her walking her dogs. Pauline looks a little startled: she doesn’t even recognise me. And after five minutes in her warm living room, I realise I am virtually the only person Pauline doesn’t know. Am I actually the iciest man on Winter Road?
Pauline has lived on the street ever since she got married, in 1963. On the 50th anniversary of her arrival, she held an “open day” and dropped notes around to everyone: 32 people popped in. I didn’t, however, and have no memory of that note through the door.
