When good neighbours become good friends

When Channel 5 announced it was pulling its funding for Neighbours, I joined in with the nation’s collective gasp of ‘no way!’

Sure, I don’t watch it anymore. But let me tell you, there was a period in my life circa 1995 to 2000 when I lived for Neighbours. With its perfect blend of melodrama and sunshine, it was the antidote I needed after the not-so-perfect blend of real-life drama and boredom of the school day. Harold, Lou, Helen Daniels, Karl and Susan, Toadfish and many more... These guys weren’t just characters on the television screen. They were a whole world.

We didn’t just keep company in the post-school slot of 5.35pm. Holidays were brightened with the prospect of being able to tune in early at 1.40pm AND then again at 5.35pm. I kid you not, there were family outings that didn’t take place because we (my sister shared this unwieldy passion) couldn’t bear to miss an episode. It was the incentive we needed to work out how to set the video recorder.

What was it that proved so alluring? It was bonkers and gripping and silly and thrilling. In one of its most famous storylines, Harold went missing presumed lost at sea, his glasses washed up sorrowfully in a rock pool... And then years later Helen Daniels stumbled into a Salvation Army op shop only to find him working behind the till under the identity of Ted, having lost his memory. When the neighbours went on a murder mystery weekend, poor Julie Martin ended up dead on the flagstones herself. The Karl Kennedy and Sarah Beaumont affair storyline was nail-biting, mainly because we were kept guessing what the affair had actually amounted to aside from an awkward pash at the doctor’s surgery. Pure, unbridled escapism...

A feature of the pandemic has been neighbourhoods pulling together. In my neck of the woods, I’ve been heartened by the opportunities I’ve had to solidify contacts beyond a brief ‘hello’. When household mixing was allowed, I was able to invite others in my building in for a take-away. Dropping a package round to another neighbour has led her to suggest we meet for a coffee. When an elderly neighbour passed away I, together with others in our little portion of the street, was invited to pay my respects as the funeral party left, and I was then invited back for the wake.

I’m sure I’m not alone in hoping that in a post-pandemic world we’ll take a little more trouble to spend a little more time together. In the Bible we see time and time again that God created us to be in community with one another. So, the fact we long for it makes complete sense, we were designed that way. While the oodles of free time the Neighbours folk seemed to have at their disposal may never quite match up to real life, now that I work from home for part of the week I’m definitely 1) around in the neighbourhood a lot more and 2) able to convert some of that commuting time into social time.

At the start of the year, Pilgrims’ Friend Society launched a campaign, Friendship Is Ageless, encouraging people to connect across the age boundaries. It came off the back of research that showed how much older people value connections with younger people, and how younger people often don’t realise how much they have to offer older generations.

As the theme tune to a certain soap opera close to my heart puts it ‘neighbours should be there for one another’. That’s true, however old or young we may be. The soap itself may be facing a looming axe, but whatever happens regarding its fate, there’s a chance its spirit can live on.

With a little understanding and, crucially, a lot of prayer, good neighbours could become good friends. And that may even pave the way for us to introduce those around us to the best friend they could ever know. After all, next door is only a footstep away...