wish

They say you should be careful what you wish for and for a while now, I've been wishing that my neighbours, Luis, Piedro and their housemates (anything between two and five Portuguese construction workers at any one time) would move on.

Well, this evening Luis and Piedro did.

Leaving to go to a line dancing party, I noticed them throwing their possessions out through the bedroom window into the arms of a strapping friend waiting in the street below.

'Are you moving out?' I asked, trying not to look too delighted at the sight of duvets, a straw sun hat and a Portuguese football scarf stuffed into the back of Luis's car.

'Yes,' he replied, looking at my silver Miu Miu shoes (admittedly a difficult look to pull off in rural France). 'Tu vas sortir?'

'Yes.'

'What time will you be back?'

'Je ne sais pas.'

I should be thrilled that Luis and his side-kick Piedro (a Nicolas Cage look-alike in floral bermuda shorts) are leaving but as I drive through sunlit countryside, it occurs to me that I might actually miss having someone so interested in what time I am coming home.