Rear Window

Yes, that classic film by Alfred Hitchcock, starring Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly. Ever wondered how it plays out in real life? - Let me explain.

When I started writing my first book Havoc, all those many moons ago. I lived in a rather nice ground floor flat buried in the countryside, between three railway lines. An odd addition to the peaceful surroundings, I must admit; and one that plays no part in this narrative. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, my flat. Well, I’d converted the large second bedroom into an office/study and that’s where a good chunk of Havoc was smashed out. But like any writer, there were times when the dance of digits on keys stopped for a bit while I mulled over what next to write. At those times, as was my want, I would spin my chair and look out the wide feature window. It was basically the number one reason for owning the flat. I was lucky to have my own little chunk of secret woodland no more than ten to twelve feet from the window. It was bliss. A great wall of green spread right across the view, and being too dense to walk through, it was totally unpopulated by errant hikers. Over the years I watched a holly tree grow from a seedling right at the very edge of the wood, until it was perhaps ten feet high. If ever there was a room that inspired writing, it was that one.

So time moved on, and with it, the urge to upscale. It was with a heavy heart that I left my wood and my holly tree behind and upgraded to a town house; sad but these things happen. Anyway, this is where the film reference comes into play. My current writing room is a small little box room on the first floor in my house which is situated in the middle of a housing estate. Now, it’s not really a problem, as I spend most of my time living in my own imagination, and that’s a very big open space. The only real problem comes in those moments of stillness as I turn my chair and look out the pokey window into the street below, while trying to think of my next line. Oh there’s plenty of distractions, people walking up and down, the odd car accident, dogs fighting and people wandering aimlessly up and down the street as they post junk mail through peoples letter boxes. But there is also a problem; not quite on the scale of Jimmy Stewart’s character - No murder and mayhem in suburbia, well, not yet. No, the only problem is my street is not that wide. The next row of houses are pretty close. You can find yourself staring out the window and straight in to the eyes of a neighbour looking back at you. It can be quite startling. There you are, thinking of nothing in particular, looking vaguely out of the window, and suddenly you realise that for the last two minutes you’ve been staring into someone’s house; creepy doesn’t cover it. Strange how no one ever complained about Jimmy, and he was using large binoculars. In this day and age he would have been arrested as a pervert or a delinquent. Thank God Jimmy lived in simpler times. I, on the other hand, just try to look down at the pavement or not at all. But then this got me thinking. I can’t be the only one with this dilemma. Other people must be looking across at me. After all, I sit side-on to a window tapping endlessly on a keyboard. My neighbours must have looked at me, even it was by accident. And this raises another question. I wonder what they think I’m doing? I mean, when I first met my new next-door neighbours I was surprised to find that they thought I was a doctor. They were most disappointed to find out I worked in TV. It’s strange how we all look around at our surroundings, trying to work out what everyone is doing, only to be alarmed if we are spotted staring. It’s like the world is filled with individuals but judged by populations. That’s something for you to mull over as you look out the window next time.

P.S. I really miss my old window