When I first met my neighbour Kevin, neither of us should really have been in the gin bar across the road.

It was a Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon; much too early in the week for carousing.

Kevin reckons he was only there to drop off a few dusty bottles of brandy and other spirits he had discovered in the back of a cupboard; Charlie the barman had given him a glass of his favourite wine as thanks.

I was at the bar to farewell a friend about to move to Japan. He was late, so I perched at the bar with Kevin and Charlie, and we got chatting about events in news.

Two drinks in, Kevin and I discovered we were neighbours in the same apartment building across the road and delightedly clinked glasses.

I lamented that despite living there for almost a year, I hadn't met any other neighbours in the building; I didn't even know their first names.

While I lived alone and mostly enjoyed it, it would be nice to know someone in the building.

Riding in our tiny lift often felt awkward as people studiously avoided eye contact and mostly rode in silence until they escaped out the door.

Having lived for years in Broome, I told Kevin that Sydney people sometimes came across as closed and unfriendly; I missed life with more of a community feel.

Kevin promptly invited me to dinner. "I've got some of the neighbours coming to my place on Sunday — come and join us, it will be fun," he said.

How did you get to know your neighbours? And how has your relationship evolved? Share with us by emailing life@abc.net.au or leave a comment below.

An unlikely friendship

A few days later, I was perched on his sofa, nibbling olives and cheese and surrounded by other long-term residents of the building and some of Kevin's mates.

And just like that, an unlikely friendship bloomed.

Kevin is a 70-something former church minister and father-of-three who once had a fairly conservative lifestyle, whereas I've only just turned 40 and have lived a decidedly less saintly life.

What we share is an irreverent sense of humour, experience working and living in different parts of Australia, a love of exploring our inner-city neighbourhood and a shared fascination for news, politics and speculative gossip.

This new friendship returned early dividends when I came home one chilly Saturday night, and realised that I was locked out.

Facing an expensive locksmith or a night in the cold, I texted Kevin. He immediately buzzed me in: "Come up and we'll work out what to do."

Upstairs, he poured me a glass of wine as he and his friend Will canvassed my options.

I could spend the night on Kevin's couch, they reasoned, or we could try to find a ladder and attempt to break in as I had accidentally left the balcony door unlocked that day.

Minutes later, my surprised pyjama-clad neighbours from several doors down answered our knock and agreed to let Will clamber monkey-like from their balcony over to mine, several floors up, to slice through the flyscreen door with a knife as we watched and prayed he wouldn't fall off.

Before long, I was tucked up in bed after high fives and hugs all round.

ABC Life in your inbox Get our newsletter for the best of ABC Life each week Your information is handled in accordance with the ABC Privacy Collection Statement Email address Subscribe

Getting the building together

Flip and "social partner in crime" Kevin have made life in our building feel a little less disconnected and lonely. ( Supplied )

One morning over coffee, Kevin and I cooked up a plan.

"Let's start a social committee and convince the neighbours to come to an event so we can all get to know each other … let's try to make our apartment less of a building full of strangers and more of a friendly home," I said.

"We'll invite renters and owners — and anyone who is worried about coming alone can bring a friend, so they don't feel nervous."

Kevin was immediately on board but took his responsibilities seriously.

First, he took our proposal to the strata committee and got a green light. I was elected onto the brand-new social sub-committee of two and then we set a date.

Charlie the barman from across the road agreed to open early so we could host our soiree in the gin bar next door.

We designed a flyer and with great anticipation, printed 50 copies and tucked them into people's mailboxes and stuck a few on the wall. It read:

Hello! We are Flip (40, journalist) and Kevin (70-ish, semi-retired). Earlier this year, we met at the bar across the road, realised we were neighbours and became friends after a chat over a drink. Recently, we got talking about how disconnected living in cities can be. We thought: how great would it be if other residents in our building also got to know their neighbours, so: Living here was generally a friendlier and more social experience for everyone.

Living here was generally a friendlier and more social experience for everyone. If you are going away and need someone to feed your pet or water your plants, you'll have someone next door to call on.

If you are going away and need someone to feed your pet or water your plants, you'll have someone next door to call on. You'll have someone nearby to leave a key with in case you live alone and accidentally lock yourself out (this happened to me …)

You'll have someone nearby to leave a key with in case you live alone and accidentally lock yourself out (this happened to me …) If you find yourself at a loose end, feeling lonely or bored, or just want to make a new friend, you have someone next door to have a cocktail with! Whether you are an owner or a renter, we would love you to come for a drink and a chat about helping to make the place feel more like home. If you need more info (or want to make sure we are not total weirdos before you agree to this!) email us. Otherwise, we hope to see you across the road on Sunday at 3pm!

When I got home from work the next day, I was disheartened to find a couple of people had taken their flyers from their mailbox and already dumped them in the junk mail pile — but happy to find "Awesome!" written in pen on the flyer on the wall.

The big night

When the big day arrived, Kevin cooked up fresh dips and I bought a bagful of snacks. We were nervously early, of course.

At worst, we reasoned, we would end up drinking wine and eating dips on our own. But then the first person turned up — then another, and another, then a few more.

Hours later, we were still in the bar, clinking glasses with the small but respectable crowd of neighbours and their friends who eventually showed up.

Everyone who came agreed it was a brilliant idea and that we should have done it much earlier.

Since then, some great things have resulted: we've chatted in the lift on the way to work instead of standing in awkward silence!

Kevin hosted another dinner party and one of our new friends from the meetup showed up.

Monday nights with a mate

And Kevin and I, both avid Monday night ABC fans, have decided never to watch 4 Corners alone again.

A fortnight ago, tired and bedraggled after a long day at work and hard slog at the gym, I got home to a text message from Kevin offering me home-made beef stroganoff, which I ate while we both sighed at the shenanigans of the Liberal Party.

Last week, it was my turn to cook — beef kofta, couscous and salad, enjoyed with a side dish of Australian Story.

We've even started a new Facebook group just for the building and held our second "Meet the Neighbours" soiree.

For my part, I'm really delighted that the simple act of striking up a friendly conversation with my neighbour has made life in our building feel a little less disconnected and lonely.

The other night, I asked Kevin why he decided to become my social partner in crime.

"It gives me a lot of pleasure," he said.

"I've always loved living in the inner-city — there's so much diversity and energy, things happening — but it does come with a potential sense of isolation if you let it.

"I enjoy other people's company and getting people together — I'm not lonely, I have a good group of friends and neighbours I get along with — but this is something I can contribute to make this a better place for everybody to live, including me."

Editor's note: Details of specific locations have been removed from this piece to protect people's privacy.