Legally Blonde

The dispute with my neighbour is dragging on, despite me hoping it was all concluded. So perfidious has Mr Next Door turned out to be, that I am now deliberately writing all my own legal letters. In this way, I am at least spending no money; while he continues to fork out hundreds of pounds upon a specious - and please God, unwinnable - argument.

Anyone with an iota of common sense would surely have long since dropped the matter, but I have realised that my neighbour has made a fundamental error. He is now being fuelled by resentment. He has let it get personal.

Resentment is a dangerous thing. I look anew at my own conduct over the past year, and the extent to which I have allowed resentment and a sense of grievance to inflate issues way beyond their realistic proportions.

So I work with some malicious, envious, spiteful bitches (of both sexes)...?
So f***ing what !!
There is only one motto to which I should be clinging and that is:

"Living Well is the Best Revenge" !

So I carry on working, rehearsing, writing and going to Support Group meetings; while Mr Next Door's solicitor continues to present me with ridiculously unachievable timescales for my responses. I glean some satisfaction in meeting all their deadlines, without actually conceding a single point.

Yesterday, I drop off my latest missive in person. The receptionist takes it from me, signs the accompanying receipt, and casts a satirical eye in my direction. "You're not Katharine Ross, are you?" she says.

I don't feel legally bound to respond to rhetoric, so I fall back on the "mmmmm" thing; then leave while she is scuttling into the inner sanctum, conveying my special delivery to someone with expensively acquired legal qualifications.

This letter is one of my better efforts. In response to Mr Next Door's solicitor demanding that I bring forward a meeting by two days (because "this will better suit" their client); I have politely pointed out that - given they gave me less than 24 hours to arrange said meeting in the first place - I am unable to change the arrangements in any way whatsoever. This message is accompanied by insincere expressions of regret and apology.

Legals, schmegals.
It's all just acting.
And today I am trying to play Reece Witherspoon, sashaying around wearing a short dress, heels and fuchsia lipstick but (hopefully!) with a fully functioning brain under its blonde topcoat.

I really have no idea where this dispute is heading now.
But I won't be losing any sleep over it....