There’s a beautiful little grey car that appeared quite recently on my street. I’m not really into cars. Actually, it would be fairer to say that I’m not at all into cars. But this little chap is obviously vintage and charming with it.

At the same sort of time if I’d really thought about it, a new occupant appeared in the blind-less eaved windows of the flat opposite mine. He seems to sit in the bay window gazing out for hours on end, not apparently doing anything.

I’d always thought Mr Aldred was slightly creepy when he confessed to using binoculars on fellow residents. But now – though binocularless – I am no better. As I’ve taken to peering slyly across the street to see if he’s in position in the bay.

I trotted home last night to find (presumably) the car owner outside in the street tending to his vehicle. So I end up ludicrously hiding under my window sill trying to work out whether he disappears inside to The Flat or one of the other five or six with his front door.

It’s impossible to tell at this distance whether or not he has a lover. If I was in a Nescafe ad, I’d plaster a poster to the window inviting him over for home-baking.