A sad day

My next-door neighbour collapsed and died at 12.45 pm today.

I was feeling very sorry for myself when I got up this morning, suffering from a very sore head after last night's exertions. It was my turn to host the weekly session of the Music Group, and I somehow managed to get the house reasonably presentable, set things up for the gang's arrival, got biscuits to feed the hungry horde, and somehow had everything ship-shape by 12.50. That's when I saw the flashing lights outside which turned out to be fire brigade and ambulance, outside the next-door neighbour's house. My first thought was that something had happened to Susuan, who 'enjoys bad health' as they say (she has lots wrong with her, including brittle bone complications which bring on frequent falls), but when I went inside it turned out to be her husband robin, who'd collapsed in the bathroom The fire brigade men had too break the door down to get to him, there was pretty frantic activity, and eventually they pronounced him dead and took him by ambulance to the local hospital.

The first of my music guests had arrived at this stage, so I asked him to hold the fort while I drove up the hospital with a few of the neighbours to give some moral support. We stayed with the family as they gathered, but when it was getting to the stage where they were due to view the body, we left them to their family moment. I rejoined the music gang, we had one drink afterwards in the local pub, and I dropped in next door for a few hours when I got back.

Susan and Robin have been my next-door (semi-detached) neighbours for over 40 years (they moved into their house at the same time my parents and I moved into ours). They developed into very dear friends as well as brilliant neighbours. Robin had major bypass surgery some years ago, died on the operating table and was successfully revived -- twice! He was an amazing man, and a rock of strength for his wife. Susan is pretty amazing too. Despite her poor health she manages to keep a brave face and is great fun too be with. I always tell the neighbours when I'm having a party, so that they're prepared for the noise. In Susan's case she doesn't just say ''thanks for letting us know', she says 'great stuff, I'll be in later on' -- and she does.

I pop in fairly regularly for drinks and a natter. They're real night owls, so these sessions tend to break up well into the early hours of the morning. The arrangement we have is that if I see the light on in their front room, that's a sign that I'm welcome to drop in at any time. The light in the window is a constant reminder of a great neighbourly friendship. I don't know how Susan will cope without Robin. He was almost eighty, she's in her mid seventies, they've been married for 48 years, and have been inseparable during that time. Susan will need lots of support, and she knows that all she has to do is lift the phone and I'll be there if she needs me.