This is proving a rich period for those of us who can’t resist snooping into the interiors of other people’s houses. You might call us nosey Parkers, and you’d be right; but we would protest that we’re simply deeply curious about humanity, and that one of the best ways of gleaning the essence of people’s characters is by snooping into the domestic hinterland of their daily lives.
This snooping habit is not to be confused with the darker side of noseyness: curtain-twitching. Not that there are many curtains in the part of London where I live. Shutter-adjusting would be a more accurate term. While curtain-twitchers secretly gaze out, we snoopers secretly gaze in. On walks we peer into every basement, craving data on the occupants’ tastes in kitchen draining-boards and thus on their whole attitude to life’s challenges.
I’ve been doing that kind of snooping for years, and it has become even more fulfilling recently, as houses are being properly lived in once again, and the curtainlessness seems like a positive invitation to look in.
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