Charnwood Cresent

When I was younger and going to the intermediate school around the corner, I felt like I knew everyone in my street.

Annual school fundraisers would send me knocking on every door asking for sponsorship, hoping for a glimpse into my neighbour's private lives. One of the most generous people down our street was Mr Kate. He had a hearty laugh and his teenage kids were well liked and probably still are.

Then there were the Kellys with their dark eyes and menacing stares. After a while you could see it was just a facade. Nevertheless I think the two boys may have ended up before the courts.

I also remember Dion Calder, a cheerful skinny Maori boy whose family moved to Australia. He was part of my kapahaka at school and although we all smoked and bunked that was as bad as we got. Though I do remember the day D and two of his friends pulled brown eyes at me as I biked past his house.

There were other friends down our street who have moved on: the Apes family, the Faifuas, Vanessa and her brood, Dean Guinea, Cathy, Mark, Normy, the Chinese man next to the alley, Sonya with long beautiful brown hair, and a different Sonya - who was troubled and sometimes seen wandering the streets lost in confusion.

But there are those who have stayed on: number 46 - the Karatau family including my best friend of more than 20 years, there's Ursula from Germany, the Burt family and the Tokelauans on the corner. Although Mr Tokelauan (I never knew his name) has been moved to an elderly hospital who care for him while his family struggle to care for his once beautiful garden.

One time (although I didn't see it) there was a documentary on drug dealing in New Zealand and our street was mentioned. And there was a couple of houses down the far end that had dodgy characters inside and out. It probably didn't do our street's drug reputation any good when our house got raided by a swarm of cops only to find the marquee in our front yard contained balloons for my nephew and neice's birthday.

I moved back to my parent's house - 41a - in 2002 after an absence of about four years. Each time I went back it took a little longer to settle in. But after a year of creeping around the house like I was a foreign boarder, I hung my favourite pictures, rearranged the lounge and made myself at home. Of course, I didn't come alone. Little Oliver had the warmest and brightest bedroom. I wonder if he will remember living with his grandparents? I hope so. The house was colder than I remember but maybe my skin was thinner? And I wondered why our neighbours on the left, who must have been on some Housing Corp rotation because they constantly changed, always swore, dyed their hair blonde and let their childen miss school. In contrast, our neighbours on the right were cheery, brought over misdirected mail and always waved when they saw you.

We lived in that house for 29 years - that's one year more than my youngest brother, Tai. Mum and dad have sold up and moved now. Sometime number 46 has talked about moving but I think they would miss the neighbourly cups of teas, drop-in visitors like me and the odd piece of gossip from Ursula.