and London. Through 3 houses away from us, Poles-builders live, quiet guys: work and bore. But! Sometimes their Polish Master comes to them - a naked, fatty hamlet of small height, on a black mark. His builders are loud, everyone on the street is hamit, periodically blocking anyone with his car. Sometimes he crossed us. After a pronounced conversation, I understood that we were not English, and he was no longer parking for us.

There are also ice cream vendors who sell ice cream from cars. A group of eight strong men. These create a very sweet impression: good-hearted people, behave politely, do not cheer, smile, bad looks do not discard anyone.

Yesterday the Master came, folded the ice creamers, tastily splintered, threw them all around with a fierce look and... got to the mouth, several times, from polite ice creamers.

The police arrived. He went out like a debilitated child, demanded urgent action, complained that everyone is very aggressive to him. His builders also laughed, and he whispered:
Yes yes yes! Cuba, such a shit, no one respects you.

Police spoke to everyone - the owner is banned from entering the street, so as not to create conflict situations.