Gate open to shared existence

I can't say I've walked through the doors of perception but I have opened a gate into another world.

I live next to my best mate Hayley, her husband Steve and their four children.

Last weekend, Steve built a gate in our shared fence. The gate has effectively turned two separate households into a commune. In a short time it has become a well-trodden path.

The gate has made life so much easier. What used to be a torturous 20-second journey from my front door to theirs, is now a trip out the back door, through a dual gate system and onto their front porch in half the time.

I must be experiencing what the French felt when the Chunnel was completed.

As I, or rather Wikipedia, understand it, a commune is a group given to egalitarian living with no hierarchy (Although both Steve and I know that if anyone is to rise to leadership it will be Hayley).

Anyway, we're running an inner-city commune of seven humans, one cat called Dave and two goldfish, Trevor and Claire. I'm almost certain we've built a commune and not a cult, although I do worship living on the commune so perhaps there's wiggle room for it to develop.

The only trouble with having suddenly built a cult is that we might have to set ourselves on fire or feel compelled to become intimate with the extended family. (And I can tell you right here that I'm not having weird sex with either of the goldfish, I haven't come to a decision on the cat yet and I have always had a crush on Hayley's dad). However, Stevie did pop out to buy a fire extinguisher the other week. I hope it's not me that has to go on fire.

We do much in the way of communal living. If I bake or cook, I generally hiff some of it over the fence. If they are making dinner, I will pitch in with an ingredient or two and a hungry mouth.

The secret to any long-lasting commune is communication and honesty. I feel as though the two households are open with one another. I let them know when I've broken into their house at 2am to steal a bottle of wine while they were sleeping, and their children let me know when my bum looks big or my moustache is catching the light.

It's only been a week but I have noticed some distinctly uncommune-like behaviour creeping in.

Last Sunday, I awoke to the sound of little feet on my back porch. I unlocked the door to find a five-year old visitor, followed by a four-year-old visitor bearing a crazy painting. They had not drawn within the lines which I think demonstrates how these kids feel about societal norms and hence why they have joined the commune.

I was initially confused as to how they managed to get from their section of the commune to mine as they were not under the guidance of any of the elders.

They assured me that Hayley was at my washing line. I thought that was brilliantly communal of her but all she was doing was swamping my line with their washing.

Now, I didn't mind a bit, that's communal living for you - you steal wine, you give washing line - it's how we exist. However, I did notice that after the rain had subsided and the clothing had dried, Hayley collected all her washing and left mine in the elements.

I should have brought this up at dinner but they are usually the first to read the newspaper so they can find out about their gross oversight in this column.

Don't come over and apologise now Hayley, because I'll be sleeping in.

- © Fairfax NZ News