It's the quiet ones...

We have now lived in our quiet little suburban area for five years and have got quite a good relationship with our neighbours.

Today we woke up to no electricity. So we went to check with various others in our street to see if they knew what was going in. It transpired that apparently quite a few post codes were affected by the power cut. But we got caught up chatting to our arty and eccentric neighbour R for a bit before we bid him toodle-pip to come home and have breakfast. He is an interesting character - very sweet, highly eccentric and mad for anything gold and ancient. The bigger, the more ostentatious, the better, in his opinion. He paints, draws, carves and sculpts and has today decided to give me a lovely drawing he had done of Audrey Hepburn a la Tiffany's. Which I'll frame because it is stunning.

I was busy rifling through a small kist to make space for some hardback books which we've not looked at for about a year, when he knocked on the door and stated that he was quite bored at home and do we mind if he visits for a bit. Of course I said no, I don't mind at all, because all I have to do is feed him a line like: "I heard that there was quite a delay in Alexander being buried in Alexandria by Ptolemy. Why do you think that is?" And off he goes. I would love to attend a dinner with him and Tony Robertson. I can just imagine the arguments and conversations.

Anyway, so we decide to have a BBQ because the electricity is still off. We chat about everything and the conversation rambles like a drunken driver, from lost treasure, to the price of gold, to artwork, to why Americans would pay that much money for statues without arms or heads (R does not understand this at all and said that he would refuse to own a statue, no matter how old, unless it was perfect.), to how much chocolate is good for you, and how much we dislike our mutual noisy neighbours.

And then he drops a bomb. He's carved one of the beds found in King Tut's tomb for his own use. And it is there, in his tiny house, all seven foot wotnot of it, completely inlaid with opals and precious stones, covered in real gold leaf. My jaw dropped, Mark politely choked on some grilled chicken. And then Ray says: yes, I've decided to leave it to you both because you would appreciate it.

My eyebrows have not returned to their normal position.

What you have to understand about R is: he looks like a hobo but is anything but. Around both wrists are these exquisite thick gold torcs inlaid with emeralds and rubies which he had made for him by a jeweller. Around his neck he wears this pendant in the shape of a Macedonian bee, also inlaid with precious stones. These things he keeps covered up because really, who would think he is wearing anything valuable underneath clothes that are that paint splattered and in that bad repair?

He regales us with his gold coin collection which is in a bank vault somewhere and how one of them is so very rare that there are only three in the known world....He looks at us and then smiles enigmatically and shrugs saying that in the end he can't take it with him but it's nice to have them and look at them, when he can. We chat a bit more over loads of roast meet and suddenly we are being invited to his house in a few weeks' time to see all the antique items he's bought over the years. He had a cast done of King Tut's face in bronze (it weighs 80lbs) and had it covered in gold and inlaid all the jewels himself. Mark and I are boggled. Gobsmacked. Other treasures include a table laid out in mosaics depicting Medusa. His walls are painted with scenes from Babylonia and ancient Egypt.

Listening to his stories of the people he's painted or whose houses he's decorated really does make us wonder...who is our neighbour really? And what exactly is hidden behind that very normal facade of his home...We can't wait to visit, to be honest. He is the best enigma I've ever come across and fantastic muse fodder.

I really wish that the exams didn't loom quite so large on the horizon otherwise I would be upstairs, writing furiously. But sadly, from tomorrow it is goodbye real world, hello study-Liz.

But the mystery remains.