Over the garden fence

I've spent the weekend trying to avoid my neighbours.

They've just returned from a two-week cruise around the Baltic ports and I know they're desperate to tell me about it. It may sound unkind, but I don't want to hear.

They're the sort of people who only want to tell you about their wonderfully interesting lives, their incredibly talented children, what they did yesterday, what they're doing today and what they'll be doing tomorrow.

There's never a 'how are you?' or 'what do you think?'.

Mrs DW almost got caught, getting out of the car. He appeared from nowhere to say 'nice weather' . . . the trap was set (I've fallen into it before). Mrs DW was then meant to say 'yes, about time too'. That's when the trap snaps shut . . . 'we've had lovely weather where we've been'. But Mrs DW is much cleverer/tougher than me - she just muttered some inanity and plunged through the front door, slamming it behind her.

Since then, each time I've ventured out into the garden, one of them has appeared at the fence with a cough or a snip of the clippers at shrubs that don't need snipping . . . I think I've managed to feign deafness, blindness or general busyness (business?) without appearing too rude, but I suppose they'll catch me eventually.

Or are we just being paranoic?