The bloke next door

I’ve been struggling today to get my blip mojo back after that car crash rollercoaster of a holiday, so I was relieved when Doug next door 'volunteered' to let me take a snap.

He’s one of three brothers who run Pilrig Motors. Over the last twenty years they have used their tyre pumps to inflate paddling pools and bouncy castles, broken into the house when I’ve locked myself out, signed valentine day cards anonymously, warned about lurking traffic wardens, chased away paparazzi from the front garden, opened jars of beetroot (in extremis), and occasionally fixed my car.

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