some dog shit receptacle

As I left the flat this morning our neighbour ' lesbian' Kate (as opposed to our other named Kate aka 'squeaky' Kate) was in our front garden with her two whippets. I say garden: soil, patchy grass and litter would be the best fitting description of the sorry excuse of greenery that besmooches our otherwise pretty abode . Once again she was letting the ole dogs piss and shit in the garden. I tried to look to see if she had a carrier bag or some dog shit receptacle but couldn't see anything that would indicated that she would. I've never confronted her on this, as surely she would leave the dogshit in our garden? I don't know her well enough to be so bold- Lisa knows her better as recently she discovered that she too is a social worker, which naturally changed her perception. Previously our land lords had told us that she was signing on. Lisa would often mention that she should get a job when she played her loud house music at 11am waking Lisa from her long slumbers at the weekends. I tried once more to make small talk and failed. After the ususal "morning" and "hiyas" I felt the urge to converse:

"it's a bit weird without the trees isn't it"

(oh yeah I should note that the much beloved that induce such tranquility in me during the usual summer time blues. I returned form work early in the week to see the two large Beech trees stripped of their leaves and branches. T'was as if the poor buggers had been raped and executed- left with the indignity to show their nakedness to the neighbourhood. The next day I returned from work and all that remained of these once glorious and noble tree was two stumps. What would Ashley the Tree Surgeon say?)

"yeah" She replied politely.

yeah, the leaves acted as a....urm.....urm....errrr....aa....." the word I was looking for escaped me
"...blinds of sorts, so we never needed to shut our curtains (this is not true) "

"oh"

"yeah- anyway gotta catch that train...."

Once I'd walked around the corner I grimaced and sucked the air throughmy teeth and laughed at my own inadequacy at being able to talk to her. No doubt she now thinks I would covort around the bedroom, window open in the nude- although nothing could be further from the truth, I won't take my shirt off if there's a little gap between the curtains. Lisa always retorts: "Yeah Matt, there's some guy out there with a telescope watching you". This is one of the few times I can be in complete agreement with Lisa, when she states that sarcasm doesn't help.