July 2008 - Who is my neighbour?

They say that an Englishman’s home is his castle, where he can raise the drawbridge, as it were, and settle down in the privacy of his front room of an evening and watch his television. You can knock on the door as much as you like to borrow that cup of sugar, that bottle of milk or those tea bags all because you have forgotten to buy them – but if he’s not in the mood, that door will stay firmly closed. Only burglars and the police feel it is within their powers to break that rule. An Englishman’s home was always sacrosanct; his place of retreat, his kingdom, his castle to be protected, decorated as he wants, and PRIVATE.

But that was in the old days, wasn’t it, when that sort of thing happened, and it depended on which class of society you came from. I do remember my grandmother talking of this kind of privacy in London, where she lived. The only reason they knew something was wrong in their street was by the number of full bottles of milk which were gathering on the doorstep of a neighbour, and even then it took the milkman to contact the police, only for them to discover that the old lady had been dead all that time. That usually came to a head because the milkman wanted his bill paying.

That was in the old days, wasn’t it, when that sort of thing could happen, but as a nation we have never been known for breaking the ice, for familiarity with strangers, except at a football match. In bygone times, within my memory, you could sit on a train, and you would look firmly out of the window, or read your book, and spurn any form of social chit-chat with a fellow passenger. Never speak to strangers, that was the motto; in any case, you hadn’t been introduced.

These days things haven’t much changed when it comes to this. A stranger on a train won’t be treated as a potential friend. Best to avoid eye contact under any circumstances; they may prove to mug you on leaving the train, or worse still, beat you up and leave you possibly fighting for your life in a dark alley – especially if you are travelling to a big city.

When you think about it, perhaps attitudes have changed after all. For example, are we afraid these days to walk through the town alone at night after a meeting? Where’s the close-knit community that used to be so strong, where there was a common form of employment in the coal pits, a shared understanding of small town or village of what was going on? What has happened to that community spirit? You can’t blame television for its breakdown, but streets are empty at night, except for the young people who have nowhere much to go, or who don’t want what may be on offer anyway.

Reading the newspapers recently has reminded me of something which happened last year, and now this year, twice to my knowledge: a young child left to die in a house, starved to death, unloved. Dreadful, shocking, we might say. How could that possibly happen in this day and age? But it has. And in each case neighbours were aware that something unusual was happening, yet didn’t know how to handle it, or perhaps didn’t want to be labelled busybodies. Old people may die alone in their homes, but children who are consciously allowed to die... there’s no explanation; it defies words.

All this begs the question: When do I have the right to show care or concern about what seems unusual or wrong? When can I step in and not be accused of interfering? On issues like this, why should I be worried about my reputation with the neighbours anyway? I don’t have an easy answer to this, but I think we all have a responsibility towards our neighbour, whoever they are. We are each responsible for the welfare of the others. Some readers of this article may feel that this community has thriving relationships and a good bonding of friendship between neighbours. From their experience they can be right. I can support that view too, in that I find examples of genuine caring in many different parts of the town – but I maintain there is always room for improvement.

I feel sure that the Care Groups which are beginning at Church will go some way towards establishing neighbourliness at its best. Those in a group can help out others in their locality when it’s needed – giving time to have a chat, offering to do bits of shopping, or collecting the prescription or medication etc. – looking out for each other. Equally important is that this is not just a church-based initiative, but something which extends beyond the church family to those who live in that area of the town. Perhaps in some small way they will help to increase that old, well-tried and successful pattern of community life. That’s what mining communities were known for. They cared for each other.

MARGARET THRUSH