I need to find another desk to sit at in the office, otherwise I'll end up some low rent peeping tom. Ok, let's tone it down a little, not peeping tom in that sense of the term. I'm not loitering or rooting through someone's bin. It's not that sleazy. But I need to move away from the desk I'm sitting at so I can stop gazing out of the window at the office block over the road. What started off as boredom, something to while away the endless drudgery of conference calls has become near compulsion. Note the "near", very important, means I've not fallen over the edge. I'm fascinated by what they do in there: it's barely anything, walk around, chat, peck away at a PC for a few minutes, scribble something on a chart, get something out of a rollerdrawer, that's it.

I'm spending more time watching them do their occasional stretch working than I'm doing myself, and by no means, is my name a synonym for stakhanovite efforts either.

Then if I can see them, surely they can...? Well they just have to, we're facing each other ! And if they are, and humans being human, then they're probably wondering just exactly what is it that middle-aged guy opposite does other than stare blankly out of the window from dawn till dusk. This could be Hitchcock's Rear Window City of London style, with the suspense and claustrophobia edited out and replaced with good old, idle curiosity.