I believe it was Nietzsche or some other great thinker of modern life who mused: "Neighbours. Everybody needs good neighbours.

"With a little understanding, you can find the perfect blend."

Whoever it was, they were absolutely correct.

Having seen the effects "neighbours from hell" can have on people- we had been blessed with the ideal couple to share the wall between our semi-detached house for ten years.

But at the start of the year we were hit by the for sale board of doom.

And less than 48 hours later, for sale became sold.

I think we take for granted the people we see on a daily basis, share a wave with or a natter on the shared front lawn.

They had both been very kind and generous, reassuring us that, no, they couldn't hear either of our newborn children crying.

I suspect they may have been telling a little white lie.

In time, footballs were thrown back over the fence, parcels collected when we were out and cards for birthdays and Christmas for Daisy and Jacob.

Saying goodbye on Friday was sad for all of us, even Jacob, now nine and too cool for school, seemed to be a bit emotional as he bid them farewell.

And then began the nervous wait for the new neighbours.

You always expect the worse - party loving drunks who don't seem to realise people have to work weekdays or thugs with a chip on their shoulder and a particular dislike for your face.

Luckily, it seems we have escaped any of those undesirables.

But I'm not sure they will feel the same way.

Two days in and two footballs have already gone over the fence.

Whenever my two are arguing in the back garden I am using my "don't you dare argue where the new neighbours can hear you" not-so-whispered voice.

Also, I'm doing that very British and very awkward "Should I go over and say hi or are they too busy?" walk to the car.

I don't know how long I am going to be able to keep it up though - it is rather exhausting.

Particularly given that arguing is my children's favourite activity after winding each other up.

First step will be apologising for the errant footballs and then, I guess, attempting to sound proof the garden.

Wish me (or them rather) luck.