Hello Suburbia.
It’s me Nataliya. I have recently joined your quiet cul-de-sac of dark quiet nights where owls hoot and squirrels break into the roof.
I don’t particualry miss my gerogian flat with it’s stupidly poor piping system, I do miss living in a block of flats however. I miss my intercom. I miss picking that thing up, being barely able to hear the person downtairs and hanging up. I miss knowing that I couldn’t see them. I miss the fact no one bloody rang it unless they actually wanted to speak to me. ME. Knowing ME.
SO we move to the burbs. Neighbours come flocking introduce themselves which is lovely, we get left flowers and welcome notes. We discover who has grandchildren, who has arthritis in their knees and who’s children can’t bear to live away from their parents.
And BING BONG
Oh who’s that.
Hi there I’m a student from Chille and I am a painter I paint you picture, you like to buy?” Errrrr let me think about that NO instead I say “wow they are really great, what did you use to paint them? wow they are great and landmarks I recognise. 
But I really don’t want any art work I just moved in last week thanks.
Then there is there constant drop of of some weird magazine selling everything from “lady massage items” to dishclothes maybe the two are related who knows.
Then there is the charity drop off, plastic garbage bags they hope you will fill of junk and collect so some poor sod can wear those god dam shorts you thought looked good until your husband said “yes you look like a …never mind”
then there is the guy who came with his basket of handmade Christmas tree decorations, as I opened the door I saw the basket I thought, what a sweet guy doing his little brothers fundraising for his school “Hi I am from the local design collage ” ARE YOU SERIOUS? you made those LOL um well hehehhehehehehehhe My daughter made some to and they are better than those, good luck with your studies.
then tonight “I’m homeless and I live in a shelter”. I am now full of fear and I am sorry I know that homeless people are not a danger to me. But I am standing there with the door open to my house with the cold blowing in with one child in my arms and the other asking who the scary man is. The scary man is about 6’3 has a santa hat on and wearing a massive puffa jacket and he is old. He is selling t-towels. Now I know no one walks the dark bitterly cold streets selling t-towels unless they have to. But I was still scared. I’m scared easily to many things have happened to me to feel safe when I open doors with strange men on the otherside.
So after tonights little doorbell experience. I shall no longer be opening my door. I shall be investing in a sign that says no hawkers. It’s not that I am not a charitable person I am. But I like to chose who I give to and when. I don’t like being put on the spot, and I especially don’t like my already anxious soul be given a work out.
Phew talk about the grinch lol
