So we don't say "Gday" anymore?

I was almost amused to see the column in this morning's paper where one of the local journalists was writing about the way many people no longer know their neighbours. 

I say "almost amused" because I no longer know my neighbours. I have gone from a short street where I knew everyone to a block of "units" where I do not know anyone. The only person I knew, and I scarcely knew him, has just moved on. He was a policeman and, like so many other young policemen, he has just "split" with his partner. The toll of night shifts and other irregularities was too much for her. I met her once - through the window - when she held up a cat to be introduced.

I know the name of the woman on the other side - but only because she shares the same name as Middle Cat. Middle Cat met her when I first moved in. She has never spoken to me, indeed avoids looking at me and everyone else.

A woman with a dog exchanged a few words one day but that was it.

Across the way there is a man who introduced himself as "I'm a divorcee". There is something about him that makes me want to prowl off as quickly as I can.  I know this is not good. I am grateful that Middle Cat and her partner only live three streets away. If I need help quickly it is likely I could get it. I am grateful I still live in the same area where I know so many people...and many more know me. 

 There are twelve "units" and I have not even seen most of the residents after five months here. They must come and go but they do it at hours when I am not alert to it. 

Yesterday someone did say "hello" in a sort of way. As I was about to pedal off a voice behind me asked, "Is that difficult to ride?" 

I was so startled I almost did not reply but then I turned around and we had a brief, friendly conversation. The only problem? She was a visitor. I probably will not see her again.