It’s not always a bad thing when the lift breaks down in your apartment building. Actually It’s never a bad thing for me because I live on the first floor and never use it anyway. But at least I’ve been able to exchange a few words with my vecinos, the neighbours from who I’d normally only get a polite ‘Buenos dias’ as we pass each other on the stairs. With some it’s more than a passing few words, particularly with Carmen, the delightful pensioner from the flat above, when she takes her tiny dog, Chipi, for a walk. We both delight in giving the owner a good slagging off over the way he won’t spend a penny on the building except in emergencies, such as the collapsing of the main drain that runs right through entrance hall and let off a horrendous stench of ripe mierd. It’s nice to know I have something in common with an aged Spanish lady, but I’d rather it was something better than a dislike of the landlord and the stink of Spanish shit.
Derek Workman
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