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I wanted to sit in my garden, just for 5 minutes. For some air and a bit of a break. But no, I can’t do that, because World War 2 Fred marches around his garden at all hours…looking for stray neighbours to unload his verbal gattling gun upon.

He nailed me good and proper, I was only one foot out the backdoor, but he sniped me and took me down. 1 hour later and my ears are ringing through hearing the same story about his platoon approaching Berlin to corner Hitler.  I think Fred could have possibly talked the Nazis into submission. They probably streamed from the bunker, ears bleeding, with Fred close behind, talking. I sometimes want to tell him the war’s over, but I fear he would attack me.