There is clearly some kind of warp in the fabric of the space-time continuum where I live. I live in London; my postcode is in London, my street is on the A-Z, there's a Tube station ten minutes away. All the signs should reliably indicate that I'm in London.
Nevertheless, since we moved in our neighbours have bizarrely insisted on being friendly, nice and, well, neighbourly. One of them even brought us cookies, for heaven's sake. Today's zenith was the neighbourhood summer party, with forty or fifty people bringing food and drink for a picnic on the green.
Where I previously lived, I did eventually get to know a couple of the neighbours, but I lived there for over eight years. Here, it's like living in a mini village. Only with public transport links and two multiscreen cinemas in walking distance. And fewer banjos. It's great.