Do you know your neighbour?

We live on a very friendly street. Our neighbours are the types who would pop their head over the fence and chat to the boys, or call in with little rabbits for us to pet. It's kind of like what I imagined neighborhoods in the '50's to be like. And I'm pleased to report they still exist in Tasmania. Anyway, after a lovely morning in 'apple country', at the Taste of the Huon (pronounced hugh-un) Food Festival, (photos of which I have included, as it really was an autumnal country fair at its best) we arrived home and began chatting to our next door neighbours, who subsequently introduced us to a lovely older couple just a few doors up. It was only after a few seconds of introductory chat that we realised the youthful lady was in fact a compatriot. And not only that but she grew up ten minutes from my family home. Obviously we both squealed with excitement and proceeded to bore our poor neighbour senseless with 'and which road did you live on' and usual Irish probing until we had each other visualised exactly, in our former abodes. Who would pick it though. There's a coincidence!