Mr Oosterman was seen to take the garbage out to the street. Each Wednesday he tries to remember this chore. The bins get collected early Thursday mornings. He knew it was noticed when the gauze see-through-curtains at Nr two moved slightly. Those curtains are seen as an enormous advantage by many; when outside activity can be observed from behind the safety of the inside, but not so much the activity inside from the dangerous outside. Even so, one has to be happy that one gets noticed, even more so taking the garbage out. The red lidded one for household rubbish, mainly sturdy plastic food encasements, almost needing a hack-saw to open. The yellow lidded, for recycled stuff, such as bottles and milk cartons with the occasional broken plate or an odd sock and local newspaper ( Highland Times.)
Of course, the reverse takes place on Thursdays, taking the empty bins back to their resting place adjacent to the garage, again waiting expectantly for something new to be thrown into their gaping lids. The garage now has the timber beams levy glued to the concrete drive-way with the liquid nails from Bunnings. All the levy needs now, is a solid deluge to prove it is working. Mr Oosterman (at Nr three) is waiting for that, but behind an un-gauzed window. His fearless countenance can clearly be seen!
I have noticed that people seem to be very loath in actually showing interest in each other at those communal compounds. It might also be, a reluctance to be seen sticky-beaking. It is something he really loves doing. I often speculate about people’s personages by looking at discarded shopping lists in the trolleys of no returns, discarded at super-markets corals or festooning the nature strips, and envisages the persona having made that list. Of course, leaving trolleys at nature strips or near telegraph poles tells volumes of the people. Not much mystery to ponder about these.
Another method is of course, looking over the fence and see what might be behind it. What garden do they have? Camellias are a bit of a downer as far as he is concerned. Obsession with lawns spins him easily into clear-sighted despair. On the other hand, wind-blown leaves recklessly spinning around a garden, leaves him speechless with joy, almost giving a standing ovation in front of the garden. Oh, trees and simple daisies with fading geraniums and dragonflies, hovering. Of course, a washing line can reveal a lot as well. But, this will be left for other times. (There is a lot there!)
Is he a bit intolerant, given to wild conclusions and prejudices?