Looking Out, Looking In

Apparently it’s all right for me to look out of my window and stare at people passing by in the street. But it is considered bad form for passers-by to look in at me slaving away in my “office”. A quick glance, perhaps, but anything more is frowned upon. Here in France, at any rate, you are supposed to keep your eyes firmly on the road as you walk through the village for fear of looking at someone looking at you. I know that the French are obsessed by the fear of tax inspectors – that’s why they all have shutters – but surely the risk of a tax inspector strolling through the village must be pretty minimal?

In town, one of the nicest and cheapest ways of passing the time is to sit at the terrace of a café (you’re supposed to buy something, I gather) and watch the world go by. But what’s to stop you, as a passer-by, staring in turn at the café habitués? Can the street terrace truly be considered private property? I was once asked none too politely to move on by a liveried commissionnaire when I lingered for a moment outside the Hôtel Meurice in Paris. I thought that was a bit thick!