The new neighours returned to England today.

Euphoria; ecstasy; jubilation; exultation and rapture – words that inadequately describe our relief.

O.K. That’s cruel and mean. Sorry, Richard. Please forgive me. An evil homunculus took me in its grip and made me do it.

For the benefit of anybody who is not Richard, I’ll explain.

We sold our gîte, which is very close to, and facing our house, a little over two years ago. It was a decision we anguished over, being rather protective of our own small corner of paradise, but we were lucky enough to find buyers who made perfect neighbours, and are very nice folk, too. You might be able to imagine our horror when they decided, for personal reasons to sell – and no, I don’t think, and certainly don’t hope, that it was anything we said or did .

What kind of new neighbours might we have? The mind ran riot, as minds tend to do, and mentally we were already on the move.

But the winds of fate were kind, and brought Richard and Linda, to whom we took an immediate liking which seems to be reciprocated. They are fun, friendly, interesting and animal lovers, so very much our kind of people. Richard and I share a mild interest in words, too.

It doesn’t end there, though. Two doors away more new neighbours arrived about three months ago. Because it’s Sunday, and because I’m feeling uncharacteristically charitable, I’ll only say of the previous owner of their house that there was general and unseemly rejoicing when he left, tempered with apprehension as to what his replacement might be like. We drew up a mental drawbridge, dug a virtual moat and prepared for the worst.

We couldn’t have been wronger. They are absolutely delightful, great sense of humour, always cheerful, and with a beautiful horse with whom, when I am missing ours, I can have a little chat.

How lucky can you get?

Location, location, location might be all-important to some, but for us it’s neighbours, neighbours, neighbours every time. And that’s why we are feeling that enormous sigh of relief.