On Monday I made a rare excursion from my beloved north London to chez Mrs TKK’s in the west of the capital. It took barely seconds after had we got in through the door and into her room before she was introducing me to a fun and prurient new activity.

Tenant watch.

Mrs TKK’s bedroom window faces out onto to the tenement in the street opposite, and is ideally located for tenant watch in being centrally positioned in the block.

After initially shrugging off her invitation to join in by considering it a tad on the intrusive side, I gave in to temptation and was instantly hooked.

I can’t explain why, but there is something mesmerising at seeing someone walk into a room, take a plate from the cupboard, lay it on the table and then get out the knives and forks. Even a bloke pausing to scratch his arse takes on a profundity I would never have previously considered. Seeing someone either arrive or leave is the Holy Grail. Seeing someone leave alone and arrive with another is the holiest of the Holy Grails.

Then there’s the “surely it’s not happening!” moments. I did wonder at one point whether a couple in the flat to the top left were about to participate in some kind of kinky activity, but it turned out they were merely trying to shove a wardrobe closer to the wall. Rats! And I’d got the camera ready n’ all.

And if you want to get meta, you can, as we weren’t the only ones reaching for the binoculars. So you can have the scenario where you’re watching people who are watching you watching them. Fantastic stuff.

And when the darkness starts to creep in, it’s like watching a 70ft screen of monitors. All it needs is some form of remote control and it’ll be perfect.

All this begged the question in my brain as the tube sped back oop to narf Lahndan:

West London: where art thou net curtains?

TKK and Mrs TKK consider whether the guy in flat opposite is a potential murderer or just an arse scratcher.