My Neighbour Has Had Enough of Me

October 2026

I didn’t need to read any further. There’s only ever been one thing between Lorraine’s place and mine, and it’s about forty years old and taller than both our houses.

Lorraine and I have been next door to each other for twenty-two years. She minds my spare key when I go up to my sister’s. That Thursday she’d popped over while I was at the shops, let herself in with the spare key, and left the note on my kitchen bench, propped against the fruit bowl where I couldn’t miss it.

I put the shopping away first. Then I made a cup of tea, put my glasses on and sat down to read it properly. Here’s the whole thing. I’ve kept it.

“Dear Margaret, I’m sorry to have to put this in writing, but I can’t keep quiet about it any longer. The branches from your gum are hanging right over our side of the fence again. The leaves are filling our gutters and the pool, and Ron can’t get up the ladder to clear them like he used to. Would you please have them cut back before the summer storms? I’d hate for it to come between us. Kind regards, Lorraine (No. 14)”

The thing is, she wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part.

The old gum on my side of the fence had been creeping over their yard for a couple of years. Every time the wind came up it dropped leaves and bark and twigs into their gutters and straight into Ron’s pool. Ron is seventy-eight and his knees aren’t good. I’d seen him out there on a Saturday morning with the scoop, fishing gum leaves out of the water, and I’d gone back inside so I didn’t have to wave.

A week of pretending it wasn’t there

I’m not someone who gets letters from the neighbours. I’m the one who brings round the lemon slice. I felt about twelve years old, like I’d been sent to the principal’s office.

Every time I filled the kettle, there it was.

I couldn’t throw the note out and I couldn’t answer it either. It just sat there on the bench by the fruit bowl, looking at me.

First I rang a tree man. He came on the Tuesday, walked round the trunk twice, looked up for a long time and wrote me a quote with a comma in it. Just to take the branches back to the fence line. And he couldn’t fit me in until after Christmas, which was no good to Lorraine, because she’d asked for before the summer storms.

So I went out to the shed. My late husband Doug’s petrol chainsaw is still in there. I gave the cord a pull, then another, then a few more. It didn’t even cough. My shoulder told me all about it that night.

The ladder was right there against the shed wall. I looked at it, and I looked up at those branches, and I thought about Ron, who can’t get up his own ladder any more. I’m sixty-nine. I wasn’t going up that ladder, and I knew it.

My daughter found it

My daughter rang on the Sunday and I told her the whole sorry business. She went quiet, which usually means she’s on her computer.

“Mum, have a look at what I’ve just sent you.”

It was a little chainsaw on the end of a long pole. You stand on the ground and the pole does the reaching. When you’re finished up high, the pole unclips and it’s a small handheld saw for the low branches.

I’ll be honest, a chainsaw of any kind made me nervous. I read the page twice. It starts with the power button, so no pull cord and no petrol, and it has a dual safety lock that stops it starting by accident. There was a 30-day money-back guarantee too, so I thought, well, if I can’t manage it, it goes back. My daughter put the order through for me while we were still on the phone.

The Saturday I fixed it

It came on the Thursday. I charged both batteries on the Friday night, and on Saturday morning I went next door and knocked. I told Lorraine what I was going to do, and that I was sorry it had taken a letter.

She and Ron sat on their back verandah with a cuppa and watched the whole thing. I put on my gardening gloves, my sunnies and Doug’s old hat. I stood on the lawn with both feet planted, a step to the side of each branch rather than right under it, extended the pole and pressed the button.

The first branch came off clean and dropped over onto their lawn. Ron gave me a little clap. By eleven o’clock the fence line was clear. I’d swapped the battery once, had a sit down once, and Ron had raked the bits on his side into a pile for the green bin.

Afterwards Ron and I bundled the longer pieces up with garden twine for the green waste collection. He told me Lorraine had put off writing that letter for a month.

On the Monday, while I was at the shops, Lorraine let herself in with the spare key again. This time she left a jar of her lemon butter on my bench, with a little card propped against it. Six words and an initial.

I read that one more than once, too.

The gum is still there. It’s a lovely old tree, and I wouldn’t want it gone. But when the branches start reaching for the fence again, I don’t ring anyone and I don’t wait for a letter. I get the saw out of the cupboard on a Saturday morning and do it myself. Lorraine still minds my spare key.

The saw I used

• Reaches up to 2.2 m on its 3-section telescopic pole, so you cut high branches with both feet on the ground.
• 800W motor. Cuts branches up to 15 cm thick.
• 2-in-1: unclips into a handheld mini chainsaw, no tools needed.
• Starts with the power button. No petrol, no pull cord.
• Two batteries and a fast charger in the kit.
• 30-day money-back guarantee and a 90-day warranty.

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Based on real customer reviews. Names and details have been changed.