The truth be told, my house has a serious flaw: on the ground floor it has a large, grilled window giving onto the street. The glass in the window is not transparent, but it is translucent. At night, people walking past my house can easily tell whether or not I am still around and about. And they can always knock at the front door, especially if they are jolly. Feeling exposed, this evening I am sitting at my dining-room table in front of a single candle. To ensure the faint light does not reach the window, an open book is shielding it from behind. Feeling safe, I am jotting these words into my notebook. A decision is slowly shaping in my mind: either the window should be walled in, or wooden shutters should be installed on the inside. This is typical of so many old houses in central London, where ground-floor windows are shuttered at night. At the moment, I am leaning toward the latter option, as the former strikes me as somewhat excessive.