That's when good neighbours...

...become, well, neighbours.
After a year living above two other flats it occured to me that the occupants and I hadn't said anything more than a passing "hello". So I gave an invitation for an evening of drinks in my flat and, prepared for refusals, was very pleased when they accepted. Thursday night comes along and nerves kick in. What happens if they're painfully dull? Or what if they really don't like me? There's the light rap at the door...don't panic. The neighbours independantly nose around the flat, offer some wine, and start chatting. We all start chatting. In fact three hours, and a few bottles of wine later the night comes to a close without a moment of tension.
The following morning the man on the bottom floor had posted through a card, and one line simply read: "Communication with neighbours is a fine thing, is it not?"

Is it not?