Or weird neighbourhood

Our neighbourhood is rather odd. Across the street we have the cathedral and the residence of a Roman Archbishop (although, if that’s odd or not, is up to your own persuasion, I guess), then we have the far end of the street (Elephant and Castle), where drug problems and the like aren’t unheard of. In the middle lies the Imperial War Museum (very interesting for daddies, not so much for mummies), which is a former loony bin. The ‘mental institute’ now resides on the other side of our block – which gives us plenty of entertainment in the summer months, when the patients spend their time on the balcony shouting the lyrics to Oasis’ Wonderwall. And, of course, there’s also ‘the terrace’, i.e. our part of the street. Here everyone is just plain crazy, although they hide it well enough not to have to move to the other side of the block (this probably includes us, I fear). So, when you meet someone in the street behaving oddly, you can assume that they are: 1) a junkie, 2) mad or 3) just a Londoner. Ah, England is so diverse, but yet so accepting!