Being at the front of a ground floor flat means my window and street view are one in the same. Our small front garden is shielded from the world by a wild looking hedge that is currently flowering crisp packets and sweetie wrappers, all colours of the rainbow, thanks to the school kids that parade down the street Monday to Friday. Sitting by the front door is Paul, Viewforths resident whore cat, screaming for ham, or tuna or just attention. He usually gets all three. Past the glittering foil trapped in the hedge, through the black iron gate, and to your right is Natalia. Usually sporting one of those dramatic fleeces, you know the ones with wolves and moons, or native Americans and dream catchers . She is the ultimate matriarch, sees all knows all has all. Although she may be the ultimate matriarch, she’s not a typical one. Nobody uses the word “sassy” anymore and I can see why, but if ever there was a word that summed up Natalia, it was “sassy”. She has parties that gets upstairs complaining, swears when it’s both appropriate and funny, tells the odd dirty joke, always with a cigarette in hand or mouth. An unconventional heroine, but a fun one.